


Tell Me Everything’s Not Fine

by Kaiuno



Category: IT (Movies - Muschietti), IT - Stephen King
Genre: Aged-Up Losers Club (IT), Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - No Pennywise (IT), Angst, Beverly Marsh Lives With Her Aunt, Beverly Marsh is a Good Friend, Bill Denbrough Misses Georgie Denbrough, Depression, F/M, Heavy Angst, M/M, Mental Illness, New Kid Richie Tozier, Oblivious Eddie Kaspbrak, Pennywise does exist but he’s not a shape shifting demon clown, Richie Tozier Needs a Hug, Richie Tozier is a Little Shit, Richie Tozier is a Mess, Suicidal Thoughts, Suicide Attempt, Teenage Losers Club (IT), Underage Drinking, Underage Smoking
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-04-24
Updated: 2021-02-12
Packaged: 2021-03-01 23:27:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 49,479
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23825311
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kaiuno/pseuds/Kaiuno
Summary: “We’re trapped here, aren’t we?”Eddie looked over at him, eyes dull and hopeless. He sighed as he leaned back against the wall, “Yeah, yeah we are.”“Its my fault,” he began, his voice dry and frail. “If I’d never moved here...”“It still could’ve happened, Chie.” Eddie frowned, though he knew Richie had a point. “The others will find us, it’s only a matter of time.”Richie nodded, still knowing full well that he’d die in that house. He wondered if there was even a point in having hope, in even wanting to make it out alive. He didn’t even know if he wanted to think about it._________Richie Tozier used to live in New York, used to explore the city and make friends with anyone he could. He used to make many laugh in any scenario, used to bring smiles to people’s faces.But sometimes bridges fall, and people get hurt. Sometimes people change, and who’s left to pick up the pieces? Certainly not Richie, hope was not a friend to him. Robert Gray would make sure of that.
Relationships: Ben Hanscom/Beverly Marsh, Beverly Marsh & Richie Tozier, Bill Denbrough & Stanley Uris, Eddie Kaspbrak & Beverly Marsh, Eddie Kaspbrak/Richie Tozier, Richie Tozier & Stanley Uris, The Losers Club & Richie Tozier
Comments: 108
Kudos: 84





	1. Chapter 1

Richie Tozier hauled a large cardboard box up the foreign stairs of his new home and walked to the empty room at the end of the hall. It was a nice room, he couldn’t deny that. It had a window that led out to the roof, it had a decent sized closet that he could use, and it even had carpet. His old house was smaller, his room was on the main floor and very plain compared to his new one. 

Richie set the final box down on the floor and looked around at the furniture that was messily placed. He planned on reorganizing everything before the end of the day, but he was exhausted. The moving people had just set everything down somewhere, just as his father had asked them to. Richie wasn’t sure if he was able to move his bed on his own, but he figured he’d find that out eventually.

“Hey,” His Mother said. Richie turned around to face her, “We’re just gonna order pizza for dinner, you want pepperoni?”

Richie nodded, “I always do.”

Maggie Tozier smiled warmly at him and walked into his room, “You’ll be starting school tomorrow, they want you to come in a bit early and discuss everything with the counselor. He’ll give you your schedule and tell you everything you need to know.”

Richie groaned, “Do I have to start so soon?”

Maggie ruffled his hair and frowned, “I know it’s a lot all at once, but it’s better to get into a routine as soon as we can. Your father and I are gonna try our best to get things back to normal around here.”

Richie understood, but he hated the idea of starting fresh at a new school. “What if I wake up barfing my brains out?”

She giggled as she held the back of her hand against his forehead, “I think you’ll be fine tomorrow,” she stood up and gazed at the stacked boxes, “You should start unpacking, I’m gonna set up your sister’s room.”

Richie frowned, “Does she really need a room? She doesn’t even live here anymore.”

“She’s only away at college, she needs somewhere to stay during the holidays.”

“I know, but why are you setting her room up first?” He asked.

Maggie shrugged, “I just miss her, that’s all. Now start unpacking, okay? Put all the empty boxes downstairs when you’re done.” 

Richie nodded as his mother smiled and left his room, her heels clicking down the hallway. He looked over at the many boxes and groaned, it was too much stuff.

He stood up and walked over to the boxes, opening the first one. It was full of posters and pictures from his old town. He was born and raised in New York, he had always loved it there. Then things happened and his family had to move, so now they lived in a small town no one even knew existed. He wasn’t exactly thrilled, to say the least.

He sighed as he started hanging up the posters on his wall, they were now bent up and folded awkwardly, but he didn’t mind. His father had wanted him to roll them up instead of fold, but he liked to do whatever people told him not to do, even if that meant his many band posters were almost ruined.

He finished unpacking the boxes and ran downstairs to the kitchen, his father stood by the cabinets as he placed their plates and cups into them. 

“Need any help?” Richie offered, Wentworth looked over at him and shook his head.

“I can manage on my own. Your mother had your prescription moved to the pharmacy downtown, if you need something to do, you could go and pick that up.” Wentworth offered Richie a small smile as he set a stack of plates into the cabinet above him. “When you get home we can eat dinner and watch a movie, If you’re up for it.”

Richie nodded as he grabbed his car keys and headed to his truck that sat in front of his new home. He remembered passing by the pharmacy earlier, so he knew where it was at. 

His parents were good people, but they didn’t understand him. Richie was fine with that, they were kind to him and that was all he could need. Sure, Wentworth didn’t take the time out of his day to spend time with his son, but he tried his best. Maggie loved Richie dearly, but she loved her daughter just a bit more, but Richie knew it was only because Maggie couldn’t understand Richie because he was a boy. He was fine with his family, even if it wasn’t exactly perfect.

He started his truck and drove down the street, his mind trying to remember where he saw the pharmacy. It had been a rather boring town from what he saw, which he supposed was the point. His parents wanted a fresh start, something different than the hectic New York cities. He passed by a theater that also had an arcade, he would’ve loved that when he was thirteen. He was sixteen now, it didn’t excite him as much.

Richie finally spotted the pharmacy and parked his truck in a parking spot. Small town parking lots were small, just one row in front of the small store. He hopped out of his truck and locked it as he headed into the building. Inside there were a few other people, such as a pair of teens who seemed to be his age. Richie looked around at the items they sold, which were just usual items one would see in a store. He finally headed up to the counter where a middle-aged man stood. He had glasses that were similar to the ones Jeffery Dahmer wore, Richie almost wanted to point that out, but he supposed he didn’t want to get on the bad side of his pharmacist. 

“Hey, I’m here to pick up a prescription,” Richie spoke as soon as the man looked up at him. 

“Are you new to town? Haven’t seen you here before,” he commented, “Could you tell me your name?”

“Uhh, yeah. Richard Tozier.” He hated using his full first name, but the name in the system was his full name, so he had no choice. 

The man typed away at his computer and nodded, “Alright, let me go grab your prescription.” he walked over to the shelf where he stored the prescriptions and he filed through the names until he stopped at one and brought it to the counter. “You’re all set then. Hope to see you around, Richard.”

“Call me Richie,” he mumbled as he grabbed the bag and turned around to head to the door. Unfortunately for him, he wasn’t looking where he was going and bumped into a short boy. 

“Shit,” the boy hissed as he rubbed his forehead, “Watch where you’re going.”

Richie nodded, “Oops, my bad. Didn’t see ya there.”

The boy rolled his eyes, “I noticed,” he looked over at his friend, a girl with short curly red hair. She stood there with a smirk on her face as she stared at them. “Let’s just pay and get back to the others before they eat everything else in Bill’s house.”

She nodded as she took a quick glance at Richie once more, and then looked at the boy and started walking towards the register. 

Richie took that as his cue to leave, and so he headed out the door. Oh, he was off to such a good start, now wasn’t he?

He sighed as he entered his truck, he really didn’t want to start at a new school.

  
  
  



	2. New School, New Failures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie starts his first day at Derry High, he realizes quickly that things aren’t ever going to be the same.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m bad at writing the first few chapters, I just wanna get to the good stuff :(

The counselor’s office was cold and dreary, it held beige furniture and bright school lighting. Richie almost thought it’d be a good idea to just walk out and hope he’d figure something out, but he knew he wouldn’t be able to. He sighed as he picked at the loose threads in his hoodie, the counselor was typing away on his laptop without a care in the world.

“Alright Richie, looks like we got your schedule situated, any questions?” Mr. Douglass asked, Richie shrugged. “Your Mother did tell me about your situation, so if there’s ever a time when you’d like to talk to me, just stop by my office.”

Richie nodded, he really didn’t plan on taking up his offer. Sure, Richie had a  _ situation,  _ as Mr.Douglass had put it, but Richie didn’t really plan on venting to a middle-aged man about it. “Can I go now?”

“Yes, of course.” Mr. Douglas nodded as he straightened the paper and handed them to Richie, “That’s your schedule, a nap of the school, and some extra guides and papers we’ll need you and a parent to sign.”

Richie took the papers and looked at them quickly before taking his schedule and dumping the rest of the papers into his backpack. He stared at his classes and sighed. 

His first class was history, which wasn’t a bad subject at all, but it was extremely boring. He always considered it an easy A.

He exited the office and headed towards the classroom, eyeing each room number as he passed by. After a while of walking, he stumbled upon the room and entered. It was bright, just as every room in that school seemed to be. 

“You must be Richard Tozier, I’m Mrs. Dumont.” The teacher spoke from her desk, she was a rather young teacher compared to the rest of the teachers he’d passed by. 

“I go by Richie,” He said, and she nodded as she wrote it down on her attendance sheet. “Anywhere specific you want me to sit?”

“Yes, we have an empty seat over there in the third row, the fourth seat.” She pointed to the seat and Richie walked over there and set his bag down. He walked back over to her desk and sighed, “Anything else you need from me?”

“Not really, but if you could get this syllabus signed for me by Friday, that’d be great.” She handed him a sheet of paper, he glanced at it before looking at Mrs. Dumont.

“Okay, I guess.” Richie walked back over to his seat and crammed the paper into his bag. He had a folder, but he didn’t feel like making the effort to pull it out and put the paper in it. Frankly, he didn’t plan on doing anything but nap, and that’s exactly what he did. He propped his backpack up as a pillow, a very uncomfortable pillow, and he closed his eyes. He knew students would start flooding in soon, but he didn’t really care too much. He was never big on impressions, at least not ones he didn’t care about.

——-

“Mr. Tozier!” 

Richie looked up to see the teacher standing in front of his desk, her hands were on her hips and her eyebrows furrowed. 

“Uhhuh?”

“I get it’s your first day, but we don’t tolerate sleeping in class.” Mrs. Dumont said sternly, she didn’t break eye contact, and neither did Richie.

“Got it, Mrs. D. I won’t do it again.”

She sighed and focused her attention to the whiteboard, she held a black expo marker in her hand. Richie rubbed at his eyes, he hadn’t meant to fall asleep. The first day and already a bad reputation, he wanted to punch the wall.

“Alright class, today we’ll be working on a project, you’ll make a booklet about chapter seven in your textbook and work with the person next to you.” 

Richie looked at the boy next to him, he didn’t seem thrilled to be working with Richie. He had light brown curly hair, his shirt was tucked into his jeans. 

“So, I have no idea what chapter seven is about,” Richie said as he turned to face the boy. “I’m Richie.”

The boy eyed him warily, “I’m Stan.”

“Great, now we know each other, Stan-the-man!” Richie giggled at the nickname he’d come up with, unfortunately Stan only frowned. 

“Let’s just work on the project.”

Richie could tell Stan did not like him at all, and Richie couldn’t understand why. 

“So, Europe. Is that what unit you’re on?” Richie changed to a more serious tone of voice.

“Yeah, King Henry the eighth and his many wives.” Stan took out blank sheets of paper and a pencil, he began writing information down.

“Need me to find stuff in the book?” Richie opened his textbook and searched for chapter seven, but Stan frowned.

“I can do this myself, so just go and do something else, I don’t care.”

Richie frowned, Stan really didn’t like him. Richie used to try hard to make everyone like him, but Richie didn’t think he wanted to bother anymore. Maybe Stan was right to hate him, maybe Richie was just an annoying little shit that didn’t deserve friends. 

Richie sighed as he closed his textbook, his eyes gazing at Stan’s neat handwriting. His own handwriting was a mess compared to the perfect letters of Stan. Richie didn’t exactly know what he was supposed to do, he wanted to be helpful but he couldn’t. Stan hated him.

  
  


—-

Richie had been fearing lunchtime all day, he had hoped he’d befriend someone by then, but he hadn’t. He didn’t bother getting lunch from the cafeteria, instead he decided to search for a place to smoke. He’d started smoking when he was eleven, it was at a birthday party for someone who he barely knew, but he had been invited because apparently everyone loved having him around. This school definitely did not agree with that, seeing as no one really wanted to have a conversation with him. 

He snuck down the long hallways and stopped at a bathroom at the end of the hall, a sign was placed on the door that read “Do not enter.” Richie opened the door, which wasn’t locked, and he found it empty. He closed the door quietly behind him as he stepped further into the dark room. He switched on the lights, which were dull and barely functional. He took out the pack of Marlboros from his backpack and his lighter from his pocket and lit a cigarette. He took a long drag and exhaled the smoke. 

That was when the door opened, of course. Luckily for him, the person who stood there was not a teacher, it was the girl he had seen at the pharmacy the day before.

“Holy shit you scared me,” he snickered, “Thought you were that wacko principal.”

The girl smiled and closed the door behind her, “You’re the new guy, right? Can’t believe you found this place so fast.”

Richie nodded, “It’s so obvious of a spot, couldn’t help myself.”

“So, you got a name, new guy?” She asked, she lit her own cigarette and took a drag.

“Richie Tozier, how about you?”

“Beverly Marsh.” She smiled, “Wait, I saw you at the pharmacy yesterday, right?”

“Yeah,” Richie said, “Small town, huh?”

She nodded as she took another drag, “Painfully small.”

“Your friend okay? He seemed a bit upset when I bumped into him.”

“Oh, Eddie? He’s fine. He’s always angry, kinda his thing, but he denies that.” She stared at him for a moment before knitting her brows, “No lunch?”

“Nah, figured I’d just spend my time in here until the bell rings.” Richie stared at his own burning cigarette and took another drag. 

“Hmm, sucks. I gotta get back to my friends in five minutes, they hate that I smoke, but they aren’t my parents. Can’t tell me what to do, Y’know?” Her phone buzzed, so she took it out of her pocket and stared at the screen, “Well shit, my friend is having another asthma attack. I should get going.”

Richie watched as she stood up and put out her cigarette, she left it on the door and headed to the door, but she turned around and gave him one last smile, “Nice smoking with you, Richie Tozier. We should do it again sometime.”

Richie grinned, “Yeah, you know where to find me at lunch.”

She nodded and exited the room, the silence once more filling the room. 

———

Beverly Marsh was having a decent day, she’d nagged a pack of cigarettes from Mr. Keene the day before, so she had something to smoke during lunch. Then she aced an English test, which she wasn’t expecting at all. And finally, she got to smoke with the new guy. She’d seen him in the halls earlier, even the day prior, but she hadn’t quite known what to think about him. 

He looked like someone who liked talking to people, yet she found him by himself. Either way, she felt bad that she couldn’t invite him to her lunch table. He was nice enough to get along with the others, but she knew they didn’t do well with change, especially Stan.

Speaking of, he still looked agitated as she approached the lunch table. Eddie had now calmed down and was clutching his inhaler as if it were a lifeline, which it basically was for him. She sat down in her usual seat and frowned, “Everything alright?”

“Yeah, Bill was talking about checking the grey-water again. That shit is disgusting, seriously!”

Bev frowned, “Why do you think he’s in the sewers?”

Bill shrugged as he took a bite from his ham sandwich, “I h-have a hunch.”

Bev looked at Stan, who was still silently fuming. “You good? You’ve been mad all day.”

“He sat next to the new guy in history,” Eddie muttered, “Stan says he was annoying.”

“No,” Bill said, “Stan s-said he was the m-most annoying person he’d ever m-met.”

Bev frowned at that as she took out her lunch, she always brought a bagel. “I just met him, he’s not that bad.”

Stan rolled his eyes, “He gave me a dumb nickname, luckily he stopped talking to me after he got my hint.”

“Whatever,” Eddie said as he chewed his own food, “Are we gonna do anything after school? My mom needs like, a five hour warning.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope that wasn’t bad, I kept rewriting it but nothing felt right so I just decided to leave it like that


	3. The Silent are Damned

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie has a therapy appointment that doesn’t end as he’d hoped.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Getting into the good stuff, I’m excited

Music was Richie’s favorite thing. Whenever he felt low, he’d put in his earbuds and blast his music full volume. His mother said it was bad for his hearing, but he didn’t care. It worked for him, the music was louder than any of his thoughts could get and he could feel relaxed. 

He sat on his bed listening to music, he’d just returned home from school. He didn’t really know what to think about his first day, it wasn’t exactly successful. He used to joke around a lot, he was considered the ‘class clown’ in his old school. He couldn’t seem to joke much anymore, and that made his parents worry. They worried a lot, especially after what had happened. 

He didn’t want to think about it, he turned his music up one more level, it was now at full volume. Of course, that’s when his mother walked into the room. He sighed and took off his earbuds.

“So, how was school?” She leaned against the doorway, she was still in her work clothes.

“Schooly.”

“You should stop listening to that rock music, it’s gonna rot your brains,” Maggie hated rock music, she was a devout catholic that had strong opinions. Richie knew she meant well, but she was very critical of him because of this.

“That’s the whole point, ma.” Richie looked at the clock on his wall, it was almost five. 

Maggie frowned at her son and sighed, “You should go outside for a bit, get some fresh air. Dinner will be at seven, go out and do something.”

Richie rolled his eyes and sat up, “What am I supposed to do outride? Walk around? Wow, so entertaining.”

“Richie,” She raised her voice. That was never good. “Go outside, explore your new town. I hear there’s an arcade downtown, you can go there.” Richie didn’t move or speak, just stared at his mother. “I’m not asking you to, I’m telling you to.”

Richie stood up and groaned, “Fine, I'll do it. Happy?”

“Ecstatic.”

Richie put his phone in his pocket and put his earbuds back in. He put on his shoes quickly and ran downstairs, his father glanced at him but didn’t say anything. He was probably in on it.

He opened the front door and slammed it behind him as he turned his music back on. It was chilly, though November was always cold. The leaves were almost all on the ground and rotting, they were crunching under his feet at each step, though he couldn’t hear. He was completely deaf to his surroundings, the music blasting through his ears. His parents meant well, but he wished they’d understand him more. Going outside wasn’t going to do anything for him.

He had no idea where he was going, he was walking on the sidewalk towards the downtown area, but he had no idea what he’d do when he got there. In New York, he could just roam the streets and be entertained by the random people he’d pass by. 

Richie eventually stumbled into the pharmacy, his mind not really processing it. It was the most familiar place to him, but he’d only been there once. He had a crumpled twenty dollar bill in his pocket, so he decided it wouldn’t hurt to look around for anything he might need. Mr. Keene smiled at him when he entered, though Richie didn’t really do the same. He did turn down his music so he could be aware of his surroundings more, but that was about it.

He really didn’t know anything he needed, he wasn’t hungry so he didn’t even glance at the snack section. He would’ve probably bought twenty dollars worth of snacks a few years ago, but he didn’t have as much of an appetite these days.

“Do you also find it strange how we keep running into each other?”

Richie turned around to see Beverly Marsh staring at him with a smirk on her face. He took out an earbud and shrugged. “Only the third time, I’ll start thinking you're stalking me at five.”

“Only five? You’re making this easy, Tozier.” She grinned and put her hands in the pocket of her jacket, “What brings you to Mr. Pervs pharmacy for the second day in a row?”

“Could ask you the same, Marsh.” Richie glanced over at Mr. Keene. So he was a pervert, huh? “Just exploring the grand outdoors.”

“I’m actually out with my friends, I saw you in here while passing by and wanted to say hi.” She gestured out the window to show a group of three boys talking to each other, they glanced at Bev and Richie for a moment before looking away. “I’m pretty sure my friend Stan hates you, he ranted about you for ten minutes during lunch.”

“He did?” Richie didn’t think Stan hated him  _ that  _ much, but Stan was quickly proving to be someone Richie wouldn’t ever befriend.

“Yeah, I’m pretty sure he called you an ‘insufferable wench’ at one point.”

Richie frowned, “wowie, really boosts my morale.”

“I wouldn’t worry about it too much,” Bev looked back at her friends, “He’s usually hard to please. Anyways, I should get back to them, see you tomorrow?”

“Sure,” Richie said. Bev grinned and left the store, her friends smiled at her when she exited the doors. 

////

Richie didn’t like the fact that he had therapy at seven at night, he’d much rather be doing literally anything else. He hadn’t met this therapist before, his old one was nice but not exactly understanding of him. 

The room was relatively small, two couches stood facing each other. Richie wasn’t sure if he was allowed to take one of the candies that were in the jar on her bookshelf, he didn’t want to find out.

“Alright, I know it can be stressful to move and change schools and therapists, but hopefully this’ll be a good adjustment for you,” She spoke, her small glasses slid down her nose, she pushed them back up. “Your Mother explained your situation to me when we spoke a moment ago, anything you’d like to tell me about that?”

“Nope.” 

“Alright, well then, what’s been on your mind?”

Richie shrugged, “I dunno.”

“You’re on medication, right? What did your psychiatrist prescribe to you?” 

“Depakote.”

“Alright, and has that been helping?”

“I don’t know,” he sighed, “I’ve only been on them for a month, hard to tell.”

“Well, have you still had destructive thoughts?” 

That was where Richie started hating her, she spoke like she knew what happened. News flash, she didn’t! 

“Destructive?”

“Thoughts like the ones you had before the incident.”

The incident? Was that really how she was going to address it? Richie slumped down on the couch and didn’t say anything. Maybe if he just ignored her, she’d magically go away. 

It went like that for the rest of the session, there were ten minutes left when she finally gave up.

“I can tell I’m not getting through to you,” No shit, Sherlock. “How about I place you in a closed group therapy program?”

He sat up, “What?”

“I know that sounds scary, but just hear me out, okay? There was a group I set up about a year ago, it really helped the people who joined. I have several teenagers like you who just don’t seem to open up to me, they might open up in a group of people they can relate to.”

“I don’t need group therapy, I’m fine.”

“I don’t think you are, Richie. I’m going to give the information to your mother, the first session is on Thursday.” She looked at the clock and sighed, “We can end our session early, unless you’d like to say anything else?”

He shook his head and stood up, “Nope.” 

He headed towards the door and opened it, walking down the long hallway until he reached the waiting room. His mother sat there on her phone, she looked up and smiled at him. 

Then miss therapist lady walked over to her and talked to her about the group therapy. He crossed his arms as he tapped his foot on the ground to the beat of a song he’d listened to earlier.

After a few minutes, his mother went to schedule the next appointment, he immediately ran out the door and to his mother's car. 

“Richie, I know you can get angry a lot, but please try and let someone help you. You’re being too stubborn.” She said as she started her car and buckled her seatbelt. Richie sighed as he stared out the window. “You’re gonna go to the group therapy, I’m not gonna let you skip it.”

“I don’t need to go, I’m fine, mom.”

“No, I don’t think you are. Remember when you were a kid? You used to never stop talking, you’d make jokes all day and do your cute voices. Now I’m lucky to even have a full conversation with you.” She drove out of the parking lot, “You aren’t okay, I just want to help.”

Richie didn’t say anything else, his mind racing at the idea of talking to a group of people about his problems. No, he wouldn’t let himself do that. He could probably just not say anything and not pay attention the whole time, that’d probably work.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Btw, the idea of this story was thought of Ehen I was listening to music by Grandson. You should check out his music, it’s literally amazing and underrated. The title of this story and this chapter are from his songs.
> 
> Also, I need to stop writing at 1am lmao


	4. Connor Bowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s Richie’s second day at Derry High and he’s desperate to befriend someone. He makes Stan hate him less, but no where near friends. The Richie meets Connor Bowers and things go a bit better than he’d expected.

“Day two, Stanley. Aren’t you excited?” Richie teased as he sat down in his seat. Stan barely looked at him, though he showed more of a reaction than Richie expected.

“Do you like the sound of your own voice or something?” Stan groaned as he took out his folder. Richie wondered if Stan was really as annoyed as he seemed.

“Oh I love it, really is the best,” he smirked, “But I also love seeing the look on your face whenever I talk.”

Stan sighed and didn’t pay him any more attention, but Richie didn’t care as much as he wanted to. Yesterday he’d been very upset over the matter, even going as far as taking it personally, but today he decided Stan didn’t really like anyone. 

“So, you’re friends with Beverly Marsh?” It wasn’t really a question, they both saw each other when Richie and Bev were talking at the pharmacy. Stan might have pretended to look away, but they made eye contact.

Stan didn’t look at Richie, he kept his gaze on his paper, “Yeah, I am.”

“That’s pretty cool, we’re acquainted. How long have you known her?” Richie was trying to make conversation, he’d heard that it’s easier when you share something in common with the other person. If knowing Beverly Marsh was going to get Stan to talk to Richie, then Richie would gladly talk about her.

“Why do you care?” Stan looked at Richie for a moment before looking away. “Middle School, that’s when I met her.”

“Ooh, that’s pretty cool. I’ve known her since yesterday! Well, I saw her two days ago at the pharmacy. Does that count?”

“No.”

Richie grinned, “You aren’t so bad, Stan the Man. You might act like you hate me, but I know you don’t!”

Stan raised his eyebrows and faced a smirking Richie, “Don’t call me that. You’re annoying.”

“That’s what everyone says, but ya know what? I don’t care.” He did care, he really did. The thing was though, that he never listened to himself. He wanted to stop being annoying, but he couldn’t. That’d involve listening to himself, and when was he ever right about anything?

“Good for you.”

“Damnit Stan, Stan-The-Man, You’re no fun.”

Stan sighed, “I’m trying to do our project, want an A or not?”

“Y’know, I  _ can  _ help you do the project. I might look like an idiot, but I’m only like, 50% idiot.”

“Only half?” He shook his head, “I work better alone, idiot.”

“Idiot? Is that really the best you got?” Richie cracked his knuckles and grinned, “The people at my old school called me Trashmouth, you wanna continue the legacy?”

“No.”

“Ouch,” Richie pouted and put a hand on his heart, “You wound me, Staniel.”

Stan groaned and set his pencil down, “Do you have an off switch, by any chance?” 

“Nope! No one can escape the Trashmouth!”

Stan narrowed his eyes, “You’ve gotta have one… shut up?”

“Nope! Not even close, Stanley the Manly!”

“So you admit you have an off button?”

“Hey!” Richie knit his brows, “You can’t outsmart me, no fair!”

“You’re an actual toddler.”

Richie snickered, “You know-“

“No, I’m determined to figure out that off switch. I want you to stop talking.” Stan didn’t seem as mad, nor amused. Richie would take that over hatred any day, he was even having fun pestering Stan.

“Okay, try and guess.”

“Shhh?”

“Nope.”

“Shut your mouth!”

“That’s weak.” Richie knew this wouldn’t go anywhere, he didn’t have an off switch. 

Stan furrowed his brows as he was deep in thought, he suddenly looked up, “Beep beep?”

Oh.

Apparently, Richie did have an off switch. His mind seeing a red car’s headlights shine in his face as the driver honked the horn. The dark sky that felt too dark, too strange. Everything felt wrong and he knew it. 

He didn’t understand it, how the phrase, ‘beep beep,’ could make him freeze up and remember something he’d told himself he’d forget. But he never forgot, and now he realized he would never be able to.

“Seriously, that’s your off switch? It’s so simple.” Stan didn’t seem to notice the dazed look in Richie’s eyes, or maybe he chose to ignore it. Either way, Richie was glad. 

“So simple it’d be impossible to guess, you truly are a genius, Stanley.” He stopped looking at Stan, he looked down at his notes and sighed. World History sucked.

  
  


——//////

Richie waited in that sorry excuse for a bathroom for Beverly. She didn’t end up showing up, which he decided wasn’t anything to worry about. Sure, Bev had smoked in there for the first part of lunch, but she didn’t say she’d do it every day. Richie decided not to think about it too much, thinking would only make him feel worse than he already did. 

So maybe he had been looking forward to smoking with Bev, but he needed to realize they weren’t technically friends. They were acquaintances, that was all.

That.was.all. Not friends. No one wanted to be friends with such a Trashmouth anyways, not even Stan. (No matter how hard Richie had tried earlier, Stan just didn’t like him.)

It was Tuesday, he had two days until the group therapy. He honestly didn’t really know what he’d do, could he really get away with staying silent each meeting? Maybe, but his therapist would probably be disappointed and he really didn’t like disappointing people. Maybe he could make up a story about his dog dying and say how hard that hit him. If only he had actually had a dog at one point, but no. The Tozier’s weren’t the kind of family to get a dog. He had a rabbit when he was seven, but they ended up selling it when Richie stopped wanting to clean the cage. He still regretted that, Mushroom was a good rabbit.

He took a drag from his cigarette and exhaled the smoke. He couldn’t even remember why he started smoking, he just knew he was eleven. Maybe he was at a party, or maybe just at school. He couldn’t remember his childhood as vividly as he wanted to.

“Looks like I’m not the only one here,” an unfamiliar voice spoke. Richie turned around to see someone who also looked unfamiliar. He hadn’t met this kid, but he looked his age.

“Are you here to smoke too?” Richie asked.

“Nah, my mom would kill me if I smoked. So, who are you?” The kid had curly dirty blond hair and blue eyes. His hair was similar to Stan’s, just lighter and had bigger curls.

“Richie Tozier, aka the new kid. I came here all the way from the busy streets of New York to fuck your mom.” 

He snickered, “I’m Connor.”

“Doth Conner haveth a last nameth?”

“Is it that important?” Connor seemed nervous, he rubbed his elbows persistently.

“Not really, you don’t have to say it if ya don’t want.” Richie offered him a smile, he smiled back and sat down next to Richie.

“So, New York? That sounds pretty cool.”

“Not really, it’s only cool if you haven’t lived there your whole life. Growing up around skyscrapers and assholes wasn’t all that fun when it’s all I knew, seeing a small town like this is cool.” Richie sighed, “But I prefer New York.”

Connor nodded, “Definitely, New York Sounds way more fun. All you can do here is go to the arcade or park, New York has so much to offer.”

Richie let out a small laugh and looked over at his burning cigarette, he took a quick drag before looking back at Connor, “You never did say why you’re in here.”

Connor frowned and looked away, his light curls hid his expression. 

“Holy shit, you don’t have friends, do you?” Richie wasn’t one to talk, after all he also was hiding away in a rundown bathroom during lunch.

Connor didn’t look at Richie, he kept his gaze on the tiled floor. “People think I’m like my cousin, he’s not really the nicest guy. Anyways, people are scared of him so they avoid me, that kinda makes it hard for me to make friends.”

“I have no idea who your cousin is, but I’ll be your friend.”

Connor looked over at Richie with furrowed brows, “No, you probably shouldn’t. My cousin will probably-“

“I don’t really care what your cousin will do,” Richie grinned, “He shouldn’t give a damn what you choose to do, he’s not your mom.”

Connor sighed, “I know, but-“

“Shut up about your cousin already and let me be your friend, okay? Whatever your cousin will do to me isn’t a big deal.”

Connor sighed and nodded, “Fine. I’ll be your friend, but… just, be careful? My cousin is Henry Bowers, he and his friends are ruthless…”

“Oh no, teenagers! So scary.” Richie snickered, but Connor was staring at him with a dead-serious expression. “Okay, I’ll be careful, I promise.”

Connor nodded as the corners of his lips raised slightly, not a full smile, but it was something. 

“So you spend lunch here, but why didn’t I see you here yesterday?” Richie asked.

“Because on Monday’s and Friday’s, Beverly Marsh smokes in here. Henry spread this nasty rumor about her and I don’t really wanna make things worse. I normally just eat outside on those days.” 

Richie nodded, “Beverly’s really nice though, I don’t think she’d hate you for what your cousin did.”

“Beverly… she’s got a bad temper, so I just try to avoid confrontation before it can happen.”

“Oh, alright.” And then the bell rang, the two boys said goodbye and left to go to their classes.

///////

After school Richie decided to clear his mind with a walk. It had been a relatively good day, all things considered. He was certain Stan didn’t hate him as much, and he befriended Connor Bowers. Connor was nice, though his cousin definitely would be a problem, he was still a friend and that was all that mattered to Richie.

He didn’t really know where he was walking to, he just let himself wander aimlessly around the streets. He eventually stumbled down a street called Neibolt, a name that struck him as odd. Nonetheless, he walked down it without a second thought. The houses there were nice, probably full of middle-class families with nice lives. Each house told a story, whether it be the one with chalk all over the driveway, or maybe the one with a bicycle laid messily onto the grass.

The house that struck him as the most odd, however, was the one at the end of the street. It looked rather abandoned, the windows boarded up and the grass growing long and wild, the sight made Richie curious. Abandoned things were always interesting, they held a story he’d never know. Richie personally hated stories though, but this house made him wonder what happened. It practically pulled him in, he barely felt himself slowly step towards the front gate that was slightly ajar.

“I wouldn’t go any further, that place is bad news.”

Richie stopped moving and looked behind him, a tall, dark-skinned boy sat on his bike with one foot on the ground. In the basket of his bike were bags of meat. “What is this place?”

“People just call it the house on Neibolt street, it’s been abandoned for all our lives. Though some people swear they hear the screams of children late at night, but that’s all just stories.” The boy kicked the stand of his bike and stepped off, he walked closer to Richie. “I’m Mike, I don’t think I’ve seen you around before.”

Richie nodded, “I just moved here a few days ago, I’m Richie. Do you go to Derry High?”

Mike shook his head, “Nah, I’m homeschooled. I work at the farm across town, my grandfather owns it. We supply most of the butchers in town with meat, but there are still some imports from out of town.”

Richie nodded, “That’s pretty cool.”

Mike nodded, “Well, I gotta go deliver this,” he gestured to the bag, “But I’ll probably see you around town once in a while.”

Richie nodded, “Yeah, see you around.”

Richie watched as Mike hopped back into his bike and pedaled off into the distance. A breeze of cold wind suddenly flew through the air, Richie looked back at the abandoned house, for a moment he swore he could see a face peering at him through an unboarded part of a window, but when he looked again, there was nothing there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry it took a few weeks for me to post again, weeks are going by so fast right now and my writers block is also not being fun. Anyways, I’m pretty sure I’m gonna spend my 16th birthday in quarantine, it’s a little under a month away and things aren’t looking too good. Oh well
> 
> Anyways, Connor! I wanted to add him in this story as a first friend for Richie, but Connor will also add a lot more drama than Richie is expecting. No, Connor won’t be a love interest at all, but let’s just say things won’t be as great for him as he expects.
> 
> And finally, the Neibolt house. Pennywise is in this story (as the tags mentioned) but he’s not the same. Some of you are curious as to what that means, so I’ll just say that Pennywise is known as Robert Gray in this story. Anyways, ill let the story reveal the rest for ya.
> 
> Have a great day/night/ whatever time it is for you when you read this! <3


	5. Henry Bowers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things seemed to be going great for Richie, but the presence of Henry Bowers won't let that last for long.

The wind blew through Richie’s hair as he drove to school, his truck’s windows were rolled down as he usually preferred them to be. It was Wednesday, one day until he’d have to go to the dreaded group therapy. It was a dumb idea, he wouldn’t accomplish anything by going. His own mother said it’d be a good idea, he couldn’t understand why. 

The sun was slowly rising in the distance, the sky was shades of pink and orange. He found it pleasing, almost serene. The only thing ruining the moment was the ongoing anxiety building up in the pit of his stomach. It was like this every morning recently, the evident fear of meeting new people just wasn’t avoidable. He was doing fine so far, even made a friend. Still, Connor’s cousin did seem like a threat, he couldn’t have been scared to reveal his last name for no reason. 

He pulled into the parking lot and went to the parking spot he had chosen for the past few days. He rolled up his windows and grabbed his bag as he exited the truck. The parking lot held some students talking by their cars, but most people were heading towards the large school building. It was an ugly beige color that Richie didn’t quite like. The bricks seemed worn down, they probably weren’t ever cleaned since the building was built. He guessed maybe the early 1900’s, but he couldn’t know for sure. He wasn’t too interested in finding out. 

On the sidewalk he noticed the familiar light curls that belonged to Connor Bowers, he seemed to be looking through his bag for something. Richie smiled and walked over to him, he squatted down next to Connor and snickered.

“Looking for something?”

Connor looked over at him and sighed, “This is the moment where you hold up whatever I’m looking for and we both laugh like idiots. Probably have a laugh track playing in the background too,” Connor stopped rummaging through his bag and grinned, “I forgot my homework at home, my mom will kill me when she finds out.”

“What class?” Richie had done his homework, he always did. People always told him he didn’t seem all that smart, but his straight A’s begged to differ. School was practically effortless to him, he could afford one missing assignment.

“Pre Calc, that class is literally the worst.”

Richie set his bag on the concrete of the sidewalk and opened it up, he rummaged through a folder until he grabbed out a white sheet of paper. “This assignment?”

Connor nodded, “Yeah, but you don’t need to give it to me-“

“No, take it. I don’t think my Mom will be as upset over one missing assignment as yours will.”

Connor knit his brows and stared at the paper that Richie was holding out to him, “You sure?”

Richie nodded, he leaned closer and poked Connor’s cheek with the paper. Connor sighed and took it, he wrote in his own name at the top after erasing Richie’s.

“I owe you,” Connor stood up as he zipped up his bag and slung it over his shoulders. “So, what’s your first class?”

“History, very boring. I sit next to this guy named Stan and I’m pretty sure he hates me.” Richie chuckled, “But he can’t ignore me for long, no matter how hard he tries.”

“Stan Uris?” Connor asked, Richie nodded in response. “He’s Jewish, my cousin hates him for that. I tried to talk to him once, he ignored me.”

“Yeah, he seems to like doing that,” Richie and Connor walked towards the entrance of the school building, the crimson doors were wedged open for students to enter. “You think he’ll ever stop?”

“After how my cousin treated him? Definitely not. No one really likes me here because of Henry, and looking around, seems to be happening to you.” Connor gestured to the many groups of people whispering and glancing at them. “I’m sorry, maybe you shouldn’t associate with me…”

Richie shook his head, “I’m sure it’ll be fine, yeah?”

Connor didn’t look so sure, and frankly, neither did Richie. He hated negative attention, but it was better than no attention at all. 

“So Umm, there’s this circus coming to town this weekend, wanna go with me? I’ve always wanted to go but I’ve never had any friends to go with.” Connor didn’t look at Richie, he kept his gaze on his shoes. 

“Yeah, sure. I could drive you if ya want,” he smiled, “When is it?”

“It starts on Saturday, we could go then?” 

Richie nodded, “You have yourself a deal.”

Connor looked over and froze, he looked at Richie with wide eyes before looking back at whatever he was looking at. Richie looked to see what he was looking at, a group of older teens were walking through the halls. One looked a bit similar to Connor, mostly they only shared the same hair color and skin tone. The guy had a pretty ugly mullet and a red sleeveless T-shirt. Behind him stood three guys, one tall and lanky with greasy black hair, another was chubby with short brown hair. The last guy was tall and had bleach blonde hair, he followed behind the others. The group was heading their way, Connor couldn’t bring himself to move away from their path.

Richie grabbed his arm and started to walk away, but Connor wouldn’t budge. Then the group arrived in front of them, the guy he assumed to be Henry grinned maliciously at the two boys. 

“Connor, did you meet a little boyfriend?” Henry teased, at this point, everyone was watching them. “Fags always find each other, don’t they? Hey, you’re the new kid, ain’t ya?” Henry now focused his attention on Richie. He towered over Richie, but Richie wasn’t all that tall himself. He was an average height for a sixteen-year-old boy.

“Yep.”

“If I were you, I’d stay away from my little cousin before you get yourself in a situation you won’t like,” Henry smirked as he walked away, though he kept glancing back at the pair of boys.

“What a creep,” Richie groaned, he watched as people slowly began looking away. The whispering didn’t stop, he wanted them to just stop. “Henry said-“

“I’m not gay,” Connor muttered, “I’m not.”

“Okay,” Richie sighed, “I should get to class, but let’s just try not to let him control you, okay?”

Connor nodded, he stared at the ground, “Yeah, Okay.”

Richie turned down a hallway and started heading to World History, Mrs. Dumont was usually in the classroom by now. Stan probably wouldn’t be there, he was probably hanging out with his friends and enjoying his time. Richie wanted that, he wanted a group of friends so badly. 

“Mr. Tozier, Good morning,” Mrs. Dumont said as she watched Richie enter the room. Richie sighed as he set his bag on his desk and used it as a pillow. It wasn’t very comfortable. “Do you sleep at home or do you wait to sleep just for my class?”

Richie raised his head up to look at the teacher, “You’re on the dot, how’d ya guess?”

“Teacher's intuition,” She smiled warmly at him, he just put his head back onto his bag. 

When other teenagers started flooding into the room and talking way too loudly, he simply sat up and rested his head on his hands as he watched everyone and waited for the bell to ring. Stan arrived right after the warning bell, he set his bag on the hook that was on the side of his desk and he sat down. He didn’t really acknowledge Richie, but Richie didn’t even acknowledge him either, so he supposed that was fair. When the final bell rang, Mrs. Dumont stood up and started class, it was the last day to work on the project.

Richie didn’t even know what Stan wanted him to do, should he help? Should he keep staring off into space? He didn’t know, Stan wasn’t easy to figure out. He could ask Stan, but that would piss him off. Richie really didn’t want to see a pissed off Stan.

“You’re awfully quiet today,” Stan noted.

“Mmhmm.”

“What, did Bowers do something to you?”

Richie looked over at Stan and shook his head, “No, why would you think he did?”

“Bowers does something to everybody, it’s almost a matter of time until he gets to you. Probably sooner than most people since you somehow befriended Connor Bowers.” Stan set down his pencil and made eye contact with Richie, they both didn’t look away for once.

“What’s so wrong about being friends with Connor?”

That’s when Stan looked away and shrugged, he picked up his pencil again and began writing stuff down in the booklet, “Henry likes to think he’s like Connor’s older brother, so take that as you will.”

Richie slumped over in his chair, “Whatever, I’m not scared of him.”

“You should be,” Stan sighed. The two stopped talking after that, Stan worked on the project and finished it, he wrote both their names at the top. His handwriting was neat, Richie wished he cared enough about his handwriting to make it so nice looking, but he just couldn’t bother himself with such a mundane task.

The next few hours went by slowly, which was a bore for him. He felt particularly spaced out, his attention span decided to be nonexistent. He’d stare at sheets of paper and couldn’t bring himself to pick up his pencil and write something so simple as his name. 

R i c h i e T o z i e r.

Twelve letters, it shouldn’t be so hard, but it was. The whole first half of the day was just him counting down the minutes until he could run over to that bathroom and see Connor. Connor was the one person in that whole school who Richie could really consider a friend, so Richie held that fact like a lifeline.

When the bell rang and lunch began, Richie didn’t hesitate to dash over there, he entered the bathroom and sat down on the cold tiles as he awaited Connor. Five minutes passed, then ten, then twenty, but Connor still wasn’t there. Richie knew Connor was there that day, after all, he  _ had  _ walked into school with him. It wasn’t like he was sick and never told Richie.

Richie sighed, he hadn’t taken a cigarette that day. He had a whole pack in his bag, but he didn’t wanna smoke with Connor around, he didn’t want him to smell like smoke and get in trouble. Richie didn’t really know if Connor would smell like smoke, but he didn’t want to find out. He became immune to the smell, he could barely tell that the cigarettes had any stench. 

Richie sighed and pulled the pack out of his bag and took one out, he grabbed his lighter and lit it. He didn’t take a drag though, he had brought it to his mouth, and yet he couldn’t bring it any closer. He stared at it and watched it burn, his eyes dazing out yet again. That’s when he finally sighed and took a drag, he exhaled the smoke and watched it fade into nothing. 

Every day that week had been so similar, but one thing they all shared was that he smoked in that bathroom every day. Monday, Tuesday, Wednesday. It was a problem, he was very aware of that, but he didn’t really feel like it was enough of a problem to stop. Sure, Cancer was something he’d probably have to face one day, but he was fine with that. He was fine with dying.

When the bell rang and lunch was over, Richie felt especially solemn and dazed. He walked to his fifth-period class and sat down in his seat, this time he noticed the way his peers whispered and glanced at him. So they were still talking about that morning’s encounter. Richie sighed, he wouldn’t let that bother him. He couldn’t, he couldn't afford to.

“You look depressed,” A voice spoke above him. Richie looked up to see a tall boy wearing a red and black flannel over his grey T-shirt. He’d seen him with Beverly before, but he didn’t know the guy's name.

“What do you mean? I’m just peachy.”

“W-Whatever you say,” the kid chuckled and sat next to Richie, which confused him since the seat had always been empty. “I-I’m Bill, I think you know my friend B-Bev, and Stan of c-course.”

“Oh, yeah I guess.” Yeah, he knew Stan and Bev, but he didn’t really  _ know  _ them. Well, he supposed he did know Bev.

“I d-don’t really see how Stan thinks y-you’re annoying. You’re pretty q-quiet.”

“Catch me on a good day and I’ll make you wish you weren’t in the same room as me, just you wait.” Richie snickered at his words, Bill did too. He didn’t expect him to, but it made Richie feel a bit better to see he had.

“Everyone’s been t-talking about you today,” Bill said, “About how you’re f-friends with Connor,”

“Yeah, what about it?”

“T-They aren’t saying good things, mostly a-anyways.”

“So I’m friends with Connor, big deal! What’s so wrong with that? He hasn’t done anything wrong.” Richie couldn’t say that for certain, he’d known the guy one day. Connor could have killed someone and Richie wouldn’t know. 

“You s-say that now, but don’t say I didn’t warn you w-when he shows his true colors.”

Richie groaned, “His true colors? He’s just got a psycho cousin who likes to torment people, that’s got nothing to do with who he is.”

Bill sighed and looked over at the window, he didn’t say anything else.

//////

The final bell rang and Richie grabbed his bag and headed for the nearest exit. He just wanted to get home as soon as possible and sleep, he really just needed to sleep. His truck was close, but then he saw Connor. He immediately knew he had to confront Connor, so he ran up to him and caught his attention.

“Richie, I-“

“Where were you at lunch?” Richie asked, he didn’t want Connor to make excuses. He needed to know why.

Connor seemed to take the hint and sighed, “I don’t want Henry going after you.”

“I can handle myself, Connor, you don’t need to distance yourself from me because of that.” Richie pushed up his glasses and frowned, behind Connor he could see Bowers and his group of assholes approaching. “You don’t know me that much Connor, I’ve known you for a day and I don’t know anything about you. Same goes for you, you don’t know anything about me.”

Connor nodded, “I know, I just… it’s been a while since I’ve had a friend and I didn’t want to ruin that because of Henry…”

At that point, Henry was right behind Connor. He put his hand on Connor’s head, causing Connor to jump.

“I thought I told you to stay away from my little cousin, yet here you are.” Henry snickered as he moved Connor aside and stood closer to Richie. Connor watched with wide eyes as he was frozen in fear. Richie didn’t blame him, he found himself a bit scared of what Henry might do. “We were gonna leave you alone for a bit, but you’re testing me.”

Richie spit at Henry’s shoes, the guy went red in the face with pure rage. “Oh fuck off already.”

Henry looked at his ‘friends’ and then back at Richie, he then lunged at him. It happened so fast, Richie couldn’t even think as he tried to avoid the punch that was set for his face. Unfortunately, he was too slow and very outnumbered. The greasy-haired guy grabbed his arm and pinned him to the wall of the school, the chubby one grabbed his other arm. Henry landed a punch onto his eye, which was definitely going to bruise badly. Henry punched him a few times, Richie kicked at him as much as he could. He almost kicked him in the crotch, but the greasy-haired guy kicked his leg away. At first, Richie would’ve proudly called it a fight, but he wasn’t able to do anything but wait for Henry to feel satisfied with his actions. 

That wasn’t a fight, but Richie didn’t know what else to call it. Bullying? No, Richie wouldn’t accept that. Bullying was such an elementary term that he couldn’t use it without feeling like a child again.

“Henry, I think that’s enough,” Richie assumed it was the blond guy that said that, he was the only one that wasn’t helping beat Richie up. Richie was sure he was going to get more bruises than he’d like, he’d have to find either a very good concealer or a very good excuse to tell his parents. 

Henry stopped and turned around, “Don’t be a pussy, Vic.” He turned back to face Richie but he kept his arms crossed, “Welcome to Derry, faggot.”

The two guys that pinned him to the wall let go of his arms and followed Henry as he walked away. Richie and Connor stood there silently as Richie watched people pretend to look away.

“This School kinda sucks,” Richie chuckled.

Connor just frowned, “Your eye-“

“Is it swelling up like a balloon yet?” He bent down and picked up his glasses from the concrete, they luckily weren’t broken. They had fallen from his face as soon as Henry had lunged at him. “It’s gonna be one hell of a shiner pretty soon. What should I say happened? Got in a huge fight? Ran into a pole?”

“Everyone’s gonna know what happened, there’s no point in lying.”

“I meant what I should tell my parents, because no matter what I say, things aren’t looking too good.”

// - // - // - // - // - // - // - // - // - // - // - // - // - // - // - // - // 

  
  


Richie parked his truck in front of his house and headed inside. His mom’s van was parked in the driveway, but his dad was definitely still at work. Richie debated just calling his mom and telling her he’s going out for a drive, but he knew he couldn’t avoid the inevitable. He looked at his reflection in the window, the pinkish-red color was covering his swollen left eye and his jaw. Luckily Henry seemed to punch more than just Richie’s face, so he could easily pretend the bruises on his torso didn’t exist. Well, he couldn’t convince himself of that, they stung like a bitch; but his mother wouldn’t ever really know, so that was what mattered.

He opened the front door and closed it behind him, his mother was reading a book on the couch. She looked up and smiled at him before looking at him in horror.

“What happened?!”

“Well, if I told you I ran into a pole, would you believe me?”

She frowned and set her book down, she walked over to him and looked at his eye and carefully rubbed her thumb against his cheeks, “You know I wouldn’t.”

“Well, I got nothing else to say then.”

Maggie left the room and came back with an ice pack, she held it against his eye before handing it to him and sighing. “Why do you always find trouble? Do we need to mo-“

“No! It’s literally not a big deal, I just got into a fight, okay? I’m a teenage boy in high school, things happen!”

Maggie sighed and sat back down onto the couch, “Do you need ibuprofen at all?”

“It barely even stings,” Richie assured her, but he knew that he probably should’ve said yes. Everything stung badly, but he didn’t need to worry her any more than he had. “I’m gonna go get some rest in my room, okay?”

She nodded, “Just tell me if you need anything, but just know that when your father gets home we will be continuing this discussion.”

Oh, great.

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H a h a h a
> 
> I didn’t wanna edit tonight since it’s almost 3 AM but I decided to try the robot voice thingy that read it, very fun 10/10 recommend. 
> 
> Also, next chapter is the group therapy chapter, I’m actually really excited to write it


	6. Opening up is for Losers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of Henry Bowers, Richie continues onto the next day in hopes of nothing bad happening. Things go right until it’s time for the dreaded group therapy where he’s told to share his thoughts with people he barely knew.

“Looks like it didn’t take you too long to get into trouble,” Stan said as he stared at Richie’s face. A black eye is hard to hide, Richie had to learn that the hard way after an hour of messing with his mother's concealer. “Bowers, I’m guessing?”

“So you’re in a talking mood today, eh?” Richie snickered, “Tell me Stanny, Stan-the-man, have you ever gotten into a fight?”

“Not really,” Stan straightened his posture and looked at the paper in front of him, “But you didn’t get that black eye from a fight.”

Richie furrowed his brows and glanced over at Stan, “And how would you know that?”

“People were talking about Bowers beating someone up in the parking lot yesterday. Doesn’t take much to connect the dots,” Stan rolled his eyes and then looked up at the clock. The period was almost over, it had begun with silence from both Richie and Stan until Stan had finally decided to speak. Richie wasn’t exactly in a good mood, but he rarely ever was in a good mood. That was his brain’s fault, stupid fucking brain.

Richie smirked and leaned back in his seat, if it hadn’t been attached to the desk he would’ve leaned back as far as he could just to see how far he could go before he’d fall. His eye ached, half of his vision was a slight blur of color and shapes. His shitty glasses couldn’t help that at all, it irritated him, just not enough for him to complain about it aloud. Which was surprising, he  _ loved  _ to complain.

“Wanna know what your mom said last night when I fuc-“

“ _ Beep fucking beep! _ ” Stan spoke as fast as he could, he needed to stop Richie before he finished that sentence. Richie sighed and quickly plastered a smirk on his face and crossed his arms. 

“Tch, no fair Stanny.”

“Why do you feel the need to constantly say you fucked my mom?!” Stan groaned and shoved his folder into his bag and quickly zipped it up. “It’s annoying.”

“Thanks, Stan, I try.”

///////

“Connor, just calm down.” 

“Calm down?” Connor stopped pacing around the abandoned bathroom and stared at Richie with an anxious expression, “I can’t calm down! I  _ warned  _ you about Henry! I warned you something bad would happen and it did! I can’t just-“

“It’s gonna be fine,” Richie took a quick drag from his cigarette and exhaled the smoke, “What’s the worst he can do?”

“He could probably kill you!” Connor sighed and rubbed his temples, “If he wanted to, that is. But still, Henry isn’t someone to mess with!”

Richie chuckled and pointed at his swollen eye, “Yeah, I think I know that.” He patted the floor next to him and smiled, “Sit down before I make you, you’re gonna have a heart attack at this point.”

“That’s the least of my worries,” Connor groaned and sat down, he buried his head into his knees. “I should just leave your life, I’m a bad luck charm and you’re the proof of that.”

“Connor-” Richie began, but Connor quickly raised his head and turned towards Richie. 

“Don’t try to argue it, you know it and so do I.”

“I’ve had bad luck for a while now,” Richie sighed, he flicked the ashes off the end of the cigarette and onto the ground, “But that’s life, why worry when you could be getting stoned out of your mind?”

Connor scrunched his nose, “Doesn’t sound too thrilling.”

“Maybe to you,” Richie exhaled smoke into the air and grinned, “But it's the best feeling in the world to me.”

Connor stared at him for a moment, his brows slightly creased, “Why?”

“Makes me feel calm, I guess.” Richie raised a brow and held out the cigarette, “Wanna try? You could use a chill pill.”

Connor stared at it, the burning stick of cancer that he was taught to hate, it now looked intriguing. Richie didn’t want to pressure him, he knew he had always laughed at the peer pressure videos that the teachers would show in health class. Connor eventually took it and held it to his lips, he stared at Richie with a confused gaze. 

“You need me to explain?” Richie chuckled, but Connor shook his head and tried his best to inhale the smoke. This ended with him being in a coughing fit, he handed the cigarette back to Richie as he continued coughing into his elbow. Richie laughed and watched with amusement in his eyes. “Yeah, it takes a bit to get used to.”

Connor cleared his throat and looked over, “I don’t know how you can do that every day, the calm is not worth the taste…”

“It’s something you get used to,” Richie chuckled. He was glad Connor could finally calm down, he worried about him more than he had to. “You probably shouldn’t even try though, don’t want your mom canceling our love sessions because of it.”

—-

“This doesn’t have to become a weekly thing, kiddo. Just try it today and we’ll see if it’ll be better for you.” 

Richie looked over at his mother, he was in the passenger seat of her car and had been staring out the window. They were in front of the building in a parking spot near the front. He had five minutes until he was supposed to be seated in that building with a bunch of other people his age. He didn’t want to do it, didn’t think it was at all necessary. He was fine, he certainly wasn’t going to benefit from the ordeal. 

“Richie, you know I love you.” She was persistent, Richie almost wanted to give up and go inside just so he knew she felt better about it. But Richie was also stubborn, so going through those doors would make him hate himself even more.

“Love you too,” he sighed as he exited the car and headed to the doors. The building smelled of burning candles and old newspaper, he found some comfort in that, though not as much as he wanted. The hallways were long and it was confusing to find the right room. Eventually, he found it, but his heart felt like it tied itself into a knot once he reached for the handle. He was stuck in place, frozen in fear from facing people. It was his anxiety, he supposed, but he really wanted to shove it down his throat so he could enter the room. He could hear soft murmurs from inside, he wondered if the session started without him, but it was only two minutes until the starting time. 

He lightly slapped himself across the cheek and opened the door, he shoved his hands into his pockets and stared at the therapist. She smiled warmly at him, though he didn’t change his stoic expression at all. It was always good to keep up that wall, he couldn’t let anyone in. 

“Great to see you, Mr. Tozier, come sit down.” She pointed to an empty seat, he sighed and sat down. That was the moment when he noticed the other people in the room, several familiar faces standing out. Some were staring at him with the same confusion he was giving them, others were trying hard to look away and pretend they didn’t notice him. 

He wasn’t sure which person surprised him the most, maybe it was Mike, or maybe Beverly, maybe even fucking Stan. Then there was the other guy Bev hung out with, Bill. Only one of them was unfamiliar, a chubby boy with dirty blond hair. He seemed scared, maybe even terrified. Richie couldn’t blame him, he felt the same. He had crossed his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, he wanted to seem like he didn’t give a shit. He didn’t know why the therapist thought that putting a group of kids in the same grade from a small town would be beneficial. They’d all see each other in school and know their secrets. In fact, Bev and her friends (except Eddie) were all there. He couldn’t see how that’d help.

“All right children, I want to start our session off with group bonding, I know some of you may know each other but I’d like to give you all a chance to start fresh. Pretend you’ve never met.” 

Richie side-eyed Bev for a moment, she glanced over at him and gave a slight smirk. The therapist, who Richie forgot the name of, pointed to the chubby kid next to her to go first. 

He was hesitant at first, he fidgeted with his hands and looked around. His mouth was parted to speak but no words could come out. Miss therapist lady was patient enough, offering him a kind smile as she waited. Richie was fine with waiting all day, he really didn’t want to talk to any of these people about his problems, neither did he give a shit about theirs. 

“I, Uhm… I’m Ben, Uhh, Ben Hanscom.” He finally managed to say, but the therapist was looking at him for more, so he complied. “I moved here when I was thirteen, I haven’t made any friends though… and uhh, I like, um, history? I guess?”

“Very good, Ben.” She then looked over at Mike, who sat next to Ben.

“I’m Mike Hanlon, I’ve lived in Derry all my life and worked on my family’s farm. I’m homeschooled so I don’t really get to meet people too often, but Uhm, I wanna take this opportunity to meet new people and recover.”

Next was Stan, “I’m Stanley Uris, I’ve lived her my whole life with my parents. I like birds, I guess.”

“Why’s that?” Miss Kersh asked. That was the therapist's name, Miss Kersh. How could he have forgotten such a simple name, especially one that was  _ so so  _ easy to make fun of.

“They’re free, I guess. They have wings to take them anywhere and everywhere and they don’t have to do anything but fly.” 

“I-I-I-I’m Bill Denbrough. I lived here all my l-life and I l-like riding my bike, and h-hanging out with my f-friends.”

“Beverly Marsh, I’ve lived here all my life, but I moved to Portland for a few months back in middle school. I like experiencing life, trying new things and meeting new people. I want to get over my problems so I can start seeing the beauty in the world again.”

Richie looked over at her and then looked down at the floor. It was his turn now, he was the last person to go. He didn’t know what to say, he didn’t exactly know what he liked to do and what he wanted in the world. 

“I’m Richie, Uhh, Tozier. I just moved to Derry this week, I used to live in New York until some shi- stuff, some stuff happened. I guess I like music.”

He looked up to see everyone looking at him and listening, and for once he didn’t know what to think of that. All attention on him and for the first time in a while he wasn’t sure if he wanted it or not. Sometimes he wanted attention, sometimes he didn’t. He always knew when he did or didn’t, so why not now?

The wall. The barrier. He needed to remember he wasn’t there to get better, he was there to make his mother feel better. He didn’t need to say shit. 

“Are we Just gonna sit here and stare at each other or are we gonna do something?” Miss Kersh nodded and cleared her throat.

“So, today we’ll be talking about change. A lot of you are having a hard time coping with change, it’s why you’re here. So let’s go around and talk about one thing that has changed in our lives that we’re having a hard time with.”

Ben was first again, “My dad, he passed away when I was twelve. My mom couldn’t afford the house bills after a while, we couldn’t have dinner every night. We eventually moved here to live with my aunt. It’s hard to get used to, I guess. It all had happened so fast, now it’s over but I still can’t get over it.”

“My parents died in a fire when I was a kid, I was right next to the room it happened in and I can’t forget it. I get these flashbacks, kind of, where I see them. Their hands clawing at the door. I can’t get used to them being gone, not having them around to help me. It’s been hard, trying to move on.” Mike didn’t look up while he spoke, his eyes fixated on the carpet. “But, I’m trying, I guess. To move on, get better.”

“That’s very good, Mike. It’s a great mindset to have.” Miss Kersh then looked at Stan.

“Nothing really changed with my life, so there’s nothing for me to say.” Stan sighed as he looked at Miss Kersh, she looked at him expectantly, but he didn’t say anything else. Before Miss Kersh could protest, Bill stepped in and began talking.

“Ever since G-Georgie went m-missing, everything changed. M-my parents rarely talk to me, people n-never know what t-to say, everyone t-treats me differently.” Bill clenched his fists and looked up, “Everyone thinks he’s d-dead, but he isn’t. I-I know he’s out there somewhere.”

“I’m sure he is, Bill.” Miss Kersh didn’t sound very sure of her response, in fact she looked very doubtful. Richie almost laughed, how terrible of a liar she was. 

“A lot changed with my life a few years ago, my dad ended up in jail and I moved in with my aunt and spent some time in Portland until she was able to move to Derry. I had to readjust to life with her and leave my friends for some time, but everything worked out. My aunt is just worried still, thinks I need some dumb therapy.”

“Your Aunt can see your struggles, Beverly. She sees something isn’t right and knows you need help. She loves you, dear.”

“Yeah, I know.”

Now it was Richie’s turn, he sighed as everyone glanced at him. He wasn’t one for sharing his life story, he wasn’t too fond of it. So he didn’t even try, because his wall was up and he sure as hell wasn't going to tear it down.

“Uhh, I guess moving was something that changed shit.” Richie raised an eyebrow at Miss Kersh, she looked like she wanted to say something about his language but decided not to mention it. 

“Yes, moving can be especially difficult. Especially if you’re moving from a different state.” Miss Kersh sat up in her seat, “But there’s something that caused you to move, Richie, what was that?”

Richie stared at her in utter silence, the tension was hard to ignore. He sighed and shrugged, “Are we done here?”

“Not quite, our next subject will be family, what they do to help you, how they make you feel safe even, but just take a moment to talk about them.”

“Well,” Ben began, “My mom cares a lot about me, she gave up her dreams to take care of me, she moved us in with my aunt so I would have a chance at a future instead of trying to help pay the bills. She wants me to be whoever I want to be, not what anyone ever thought I should be. My dad always wanted me to follow in his steps, but I knew I could never be like him. It was tearing me up inside, but my mom noticed and she reminded me that I could be whoever I want to.”

“Well, my grandpa really tries hard to make sure I don’t end up working on that farm all my life. All the money I inherited from my parents has been set aside solely for my college funds, to make sure I live a good life and be whoever I want to be.” Mike looked around at everyone, “But most importantly, he’s been there for me for as long as I can remember. He’s the one who told me I needed to be here, to help me move on and accept what’s happened. It’s nice, knowing someone cares. Some people don’t have that.”

“Well, my parents try their best. They can’t understand why I feel the way I do, why I can’t just get over these feelings I’ve been having and be happy and normal. They try their best, which is why I’m here, I guess. They thought that maybe it’d help, but so far it hasn’t. They love me, they do. They also want the best from me, they want perfection and I can’t be that. So yeah, they love me, but I can’t say that they make me feel happy.” Stan didn’t look at anyone as he spoke, he kept his head down and eyes glued to his own sneakers. Richie felt like he was seeing a whole different Stan, the Stan that he really was inside. It was easy to see why Stan kept up such a barrier between himself and others, it was easy to see why he acted how he had towards Richie.

“Well, my parents l-love me, t-they always have. W-Whenever I’m sick, they m-m-make me hot soup and tu-tuck me in, whenever I’m sad th-they’d watch m-movies with me and bake me my favorite desserts, but lately they’ve kind of b-been slacking, I-I guess. With G-Georgie gone, it’s like they suddenly were gone too. T-They aren’t themselves, neither am I, b-but at least I still bother t-to talk to them. I know you said to t-talk about how they’ve he-helped or how they made me feel safe. B-But right now I can’t say that they’re d-doing anything positive in my life.” Bill sighed, he looked over at Beverly, who seemed hesitant to even move.

“I don’t really know how you expect me to answer this, my father was a terrible person, my mother has been dead all my life. My aunt is the only relative of mine that ever even cared about me, so I’m going to pass on that question.”

Miss Kersh was silent for a moment before she nodded and looked at Richie. He wasn’t exactly sure of what to say, his parents were great, but they hadn’t always been there for him. Before the incident, they were always off at work, and whenever they were home they’d be spending their free time on dates and checking in on his sister, never him. He was the easy kid, they thought he was fine being on his own. They now realized that they were wrong, barely ever letting him spend time alone, but they still didn’t make him feel as safe as they had when he was a child. 

“I don’t know, my parents are great. They care, they want to help. What’s there to say?”

“Well, what have they done to help?”

“Forced me to move here, to a dumb little small town in Maine where everyone doesn’t know the existence of. They forced me here today, I guess you could call that helping.”

“And do you agree with their decision to move here?”

Richie looked over at her and shrugged, “Why does it matter what I think?”

“It’s the most important part of this all, it’s your life after all. It’s your recovery.”

“Right,” Richie snickered, “My recovery. Yeah no, this is just one huge joke.”

“It’s no joke, Mr. Tozier. This is for your own good, all of yours.”

“Right,” Richie scoffed, “Like this’ll help.”

“Give it time,” Miss Kersh began, “This will help eventually.”

Richie sighed and looked up at the ceiling, the others were trying not to look at him, but he caught the occasional glance. He zoned out for the rest of it, giving mumbled answers and barely giving a shit about what Miss Kersh thought.

“Alright, I’d like to end this session by setting up a team bonding experience. This Sunday you all will hang out at the carnival, it’s mandatory.” 

Oh, great. Not like Richie had plans on Sunday, but he would rather die than hang out with his group therapy pals. He was already going to the damn carnival on Saturday with Connor, so why make him go again with people he barely knew?

Whatever the case, as soon as he was told he could, he stood up and dashed out that door. He probably would’ve run right to his mother's car if he hadn’t heard Beverly call his name from the exit.

“New kid, didn’t expect to see you here,” she spoke as soon as he made his way over to her.

“Didn’t really expect you either, but I don’t really know who I was expecting I guess.” 

“Yeah.. Anyways, you doing alright?” She asked. “couldn’t help but notice you seemed a bit, I dunno, strange?”

“I’m just Great, Beverly.” He looked over to see Bill and Stan watching them and whispering, Richie turned away, “You should get back to your friends.”

“Yeah, I guess so. See you around, Tozier.” Her footsteps became fainter and fainter until he no longer heard them. His mother’s car was still waiting for him to walk over and enter, but his feet wouldn’t take him. He stared and stared and waited for the moment when his eyes would snap back into reality and he could continue his day. 

And oh how much Richie hated that day. 

  
  


———-

Robert Gray was a simple man of simple ideals, he liked things how he liked them and nothing more, nothing less. He’d made many sacrifices to get where he needed to be, but it all had been well-worth it in the end. Sure, he was stuck painting his face with white and red as if it were the most important part of his job. It all had a purpose, one that could serve his ideals.

Clowns weren’t scary, he’d never thought so. He knew many who thought that, many who believed clowns were so terrifying. Every year he’d find himself smearing the white coloring all over his already pale face until his face was as white as snow, then he’d paint on silly patterns with red and make himself look absolutely ridiculous. It mattered nothing to him, it was something that served a greater purpose than anyone could imagine. 

He’d do silly acts as people laughed at him, but if they knew the deeds he’d done, he’d be the only one laughing. 

So yes, Robert Gray was a simple man. As simple as a serial killer could be, of course. But in due time, he’d strike again. He always did, yet no one ever knew. 

Things would stay that way, forever.

  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> When you’re reading this I’m probably 16! Yay age!
> 
> Anyways, sorry it took a while for me to get this out, I’ve been working way too much these past few weeks and it’s fogged up my brain. I can’t really think all that often. But I was able to get onto an angsty mood and was able to write this as quickly as I could. Excuse any mistakes in this chapter, I can barely keep my eyes open right now but I don’t wanna sleep until this chapter is out. Things are starting to happen in this story, it’s gonna be exciting.
> 
> But Things are only Just beginning.


	7. Not as it Seems

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie and Connor watch the circus, but things aren’t as they seem.

The place was lit up with neon colors, red and white and so many more that it was almost overwhelming. The smell of over-buttered popcorn and cotton candy filled the air with a sudden craving of said foods. Carnival music played loudly over the speakers, the sound of people filled his ears. His hands were touching the cone of his cotton candy, the blue raspberry taste enticing his taste buds. Yeah, Richie has the five senses. Sometimes though, he felt like he had six. Like right now, he could sense a pair of eyes staring at him from across the tent, he hadn’t turned around to confirm his suspicion, but he knew someone was there.

Connor didn’t seem to notice anything, which was fine. Whoever was staring at Richie was probably only staring at Richie, or maybe Connor just didn’t notice the feeling of dread building up inside him. Richie turned around for a moment, his eyes scanned around the tent, his eyes stopped on the worst possible scenario.

It was a clown that was staring at him, one with a white painted face with red marks leading up to his eyelids, a gross orange hair color that spiked out on the sides. Even when Richie was staring him in the eyes, the clown did not look away. He kept a creepy gaze focused on Richie, who swiftly turned around before he could feel like absolute shit.

“So, this is a circus,” Richie sighed as he watched Connor munch on the kettle corn he had bought, “Kinda unimpressive.”

Connor frowned and looked over at him, “It hasn’t even begun yet Richie.”

“True,” Richie leaned back, though it was quite difficult to do on bleachers that were so narrow that it caused Richie’s back to be stabbed by shoes. He ended up just sitting up straight and hoping the circus performance would go by quickly so that he could go and play some of the rigged games. Maybe if he was lucky, he could manage to win one. “You know, I can’t believe they managed to fit a whole carnival in this small ass town.”

“Yeah, it’s hard to believe.” Connor held out his bag of kettle corn, Richie accepted and grabbed a few pieces with his sticky fingers. He wasn’t a huge fan of kettle corn, but he was hungry and cotton candy wasn’t exactly the most filling. “They do this each year too, twice actually. Once in November, again in June.”

“Why November? It’s cold as hell.”

“Because,” Connor began before taking a moment to finish chewing, “Derry fucking sucks, that’s why. The carnival tours around the state, Derry wanted it twice and the only other time they could book the carnival was in November.”

Richie nodded and stared at the performers, who were all preparing the stage. The previous day had been very boring for him. Nothing notable happened, besides smoking in the bathroom with Bev while he had the knowledge that Connor was actively avoiding her. He wished he could convince Connor that Bev probably wouldn’t hate him, but Connor probably wouldn’t even listen.

“Have you ever thought about what you’ll do when you graduate? What you’ll do with your life?” Connor asked suddenly, he wasn’t looking at Richie, instead he watched the performers.

Richie shrugged, “Maybe a few times, not recently though. I guess I’m just kinda hoping everything will figure itself out.”

Connor sighed and nodded, “I don’t have any interests or hobbies that I could convert into a career, I’ve spent all my life thinking I’ll figure it out. Now it’s Junior year and I have to start thinking about colleges.”

Richie looked at his hands, “Yeah, I get that.” He looked back at Connor, who still was staring at the performers, “You could always run away and join the circus,” he snickered. 

Connor chuckled for a moment, “Yeah, I’m already a freak, why not just put the whole label on there.”

“You’re Not a freak, Connor,” Richie spoke softly, “Why would you think you are? Your cousin definitely doesn’t make you a freak.”

Connor looked up and stared at him for a moment, his mouth parted slightly and it was obvious he wanted to say something but was holding himself back. 

“Just say it, Connor.”

“I- I Uh, I’m…” Connor hushed his tone, “I’m gay, Richie.”

Richie stared at him for a moment, what exactly would he say to that? He was definitely fine with someone being gay, Richie was-

“That’s gotta suck, with a cousin like yours? He’s the definition of homophobic.”

Connor looked up at him, “You’re fine with it?”

Richie nodded, “of course I am, why wouldn’t I be?”

“I dunno,” He smiled slightly, “I just- I barely know you I guess. I had this friend, he was my friend since preschool, I came out to him and then… he just left. Started ignoring me, so I just kinda assume everyone will be like that.”

Richie sighed, “Small towns kinda suck, if you grow up there then you know everyone and they know everything about you, right? Glad I was born in New York.”

Connor nodded, “Please don’t tell anybody, I- I wasn’t really even ready to tell you, if I’m being honest.”

“Of course, not like it’s so interesting that the whole world needs to know.” Richie knit his brows, “no offense! It’s just-“

Connor chuckled, “No, I get it. It really isn’t that interesting.”

Fuck, Richie really wanted to say something, and of course, his trashmouth said it.

“How did you know?” Richie asked, “That you’re gay?”

Connor shrugged, “I never liked girls, never had a crush on one. As a kid, I used to assign myself a crush so that I could talk about girls with the other boys in my class. I just… I couldn’t imagine myself even kissing a girl, but I could with a guy. I started having these feelings whenever I saw this one guy, but I kept telling myself that I was just scared of him or something.”

Richie frowned, “What happened with those feelings?”

Connor shrugged, “They went away after a while, after he… nevermind.”

Richie sighed and nodded, he wasn’t gay. There was no way he was, that was just… impossible.

Before either Richie or Connor could say anything else, the performance began and they focused on watching everything. The feeling of eyes still lingered on Richie, he’d look over occasionally to see that clown standing there behind the bleachers as he blew up a red balloon. His eyes still staring right at Richie, not looking away for even a moment. 

—————

When the performance ended, Richie looked around the tent to see if the clown was still there, the feeling of being watched had gone away but he still had a bad feeling. The clown was gone, a red balloon floating in his place. Richie looked away and followed Connor out of the tent.

“So, wanna play some of those rigged games?” Richie suggested, Connor nodded. “I’m thinking the dart one, how about you?”

“Yeah, we could do that.” Before either of them could even move towards the games, a woman began yelling.

“HAS ANYONE SEEN MY SON?!” She ran around gripping the shoulders of any person she ran by, her eyes wide with desperation and panic. 

Richie looked over at Connor, who seemed a bit nervous. “This happens often?”

Connor nodded, “Derry has way too many child disappearances to be considered normal. Something is going on in this town, it’s just that none of the adults care enough to investigate and all the kids are too scared of being on the next set of missing posters.”

Richie frowned and looked around, his eyes spotting the clown from earlier. He was closing the back of his car and turned to look Richie directly in the eyes. Richie shivered at the eye contact, then looked back at Connor.

“I guess we should leave before the police make us.” Richie sighed and looked at Connor, “I’ll give you a ride home.”

Connor nodded and followed Richie to his truck. The red and blue flashing lights pulled into the area just as Richie got out of the parking lot. 

  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay so, I spent a few hours writing the chapter outlines for the rest of this story. If I follow that outline, there will be a total of 30 chapters. Kinda crazy to think about that, but I’m excited to see how this story plays out. It’s definitely not something you’ll expect, probably anyways.
> 
> Sorry this chapter was a bit short, but the next one will definitely be longer.


	8. Mirror Maze

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Carnival day for the therapy group and a short asthmatic joins them. And of course, Richie is stuck in the mirror maze with said asthmatic.

It was consistent, the loud noise that echoed through his ears and repeated over and over until he managed to turn over and hit ‘snooze.’ On weekends, Richie liked to sleep in, most of the time he would end up waking up at noon and going to bed at 3 AM. His sleep schedule wasn’t exactly great, but he didn’t bother himself enough to make it suit the ideals of his mother.

Today was the day he went to the carnival with that dumb therapy group. Don’t get him wrong, he had nothing to hate about the group, it was just that it felt like such a waste of time. Richie wasn’t going to benefit from hearing about other people and their struggles, and sharing his own? Yeah, funny joke.

It was eight in the morning, the morning sun just barely shining through his windows as he rubbed his blurry eyes. His glasses rested on his nightstand, safely away from his unconscious reach so as to not destroy them. The last time he broke his glasses, his mother threw a fit about it.  _ “Richard Wentworth Tozier, you need to take better care of your glasses! Your father and I spent so much money for those and if you break them again it’ll come out of your pockets!” _

__ Yeah, Maggie Tozier was a bit scary to deal with when she was mad. He spent a lot of time making sure not to upset her, especially when he was just a clumsy little kid. 

He sighed as he sat up, he reached for his glasses and put them on, his vision immediately becoming clear. What exactly was he supposed to wear to this ‘field trip,’ as Miss Kersh had called it. He wore his usual band T-shirt with ripped jeans when he hung out with Connor, but part of him felt like his clothing taste would be scorned upon by Miss Kersh. She seemed a bit old-fashioned.

He sighed and grabbed whatever he could, grabbing the first shirt from his dresser and a pair of ripped jeans. He also grabbed a Hawaiian shirt, he liked to wear those over his shirts sometimes. It’d be a long story to explain why he loved Hawaiian shirts, so he’d never bother telling anyone.

Two knocks came from the door, before Richie could speak, the door opened. His mother stood there with a gentle smile and leaned against the doorway, “Do you want me to drive you, or do you want to drive yourself today?”

Richie looked at the keys of his truck, which were thrown on the floor from the previous day. “I can drive myself.”

She nodded, “Sounds good. Want me to make breakfast at all? Your father wants eggs and toast, so we’ll be making some.”

“I’ll pass, I might stop and get something to eat later.”

“Okay,” She smiled as she stood up straight, “I’ll leave you to it, then. Give me a call when you’re on your way home.”

Richie nodded and looked at his clock, it was 8:10. He had to be at the carnival at 9. He never was someone that liked being early, in fact, he was always late to everything. Teachers at his old school usually were surprised to mark him as ‘present’ instead of ‘tardy.’ 

So, he grabbed his keys and got in his truck. He wasn’t sure why, he had 50 minutes until he had to be there, but part of him felt like he needed to go there. The image of that clown staring at him… he couldn’t forget it. He especially couldn’t forget the way he shivered at the mere thought of seeing that fucking clown again.

He wasn’t scared of clowns, per se, he was more scared of the people behind the layers of face paint. He’d heard of a serial killer clown, and he was sure there were more clowns who’d love to stab him to death.

He turned up the radio of his truck and parked in the parking lot of the carnival. He sat there for a while, just listening to the music and let himself prepare for whatever would end up happening. He stared out his windshield at the people passing by, eventually he grew bored of this and got out of his truck, he headed over to an empty bench and waited for 9 am to finally occur. 

“Richie,” He looked up, Stan stood there with an indifferent expression, as if he really didn’t care if he was there or not. “Surprising that you beat me here.”

Richie chuckled and patted the spot next to him, Stan sat down. “I’m surprised you didn’t come with your friends.”

“Yeah well, we figured we’d just meet up here.”

Richie nodded and stared at him for a moment, “This whole thing is dumb. Why make us all hang out at a carnival?”

Stan shrugged, “I think Miss Kersh just wanted us to get along better, it was kinda awkward the other day.”

“You got that right,” Bev walked up to them with her arms crossed, “Honestly, most of my friend group is in that group and we know each other’s problems. We have no idea about you or Ben or Mike, and you guys have no idea about us or each other. Don’t think Miss Kersh really knew Bill, Stan and I were friends though.”

“Probably not,” Stan nodded.

“Speaking of, where is Miss Kersh?” Richie groaned, “Isn't she supposed to like, be the one to make sure we all came?”

Bev shrugged and sat down next to Richie, “Whatever, we’ll just wait and see.”

Richie sighed and began looking around, not many people want to go to a carnival at nine in the fucking morning, so it was pretty empty for the most part. That’s when he noticed it, the clown. Staring at him from across the carnival, he almost barely noticed. 

“What the fuck.” Richie muttered, this caught Stan and Bev’s attention. He pointed to the clown and sighed, “That clown has been watching me since yesterday.”

Bev squinted her eyes until she noticed it, she frowned, “Why is he still staring? Can’t he see we noticed?”

Richie shrugged, “I don’t know.”

“Don’t know what?” Bill asked, Eddie standing next to him. “E-Eddie wanted to come too, if M-Miss Kersh says no then w-we can sneak him in.”

Bev raised a brow and sighed, “Richie has a clown stalking him, look!”

“A clown stalker? Interesting,” Mike chuckled as he approached, Ben stood behind him. And so, the whole group was there. Richie felt a bit awkward, the clown that suddenly was gone was still creeping on his mind. Whatever the case, Richie just told himself to set the thought aside and continue on with his day.

“Who is he?” Ben asked as he pointed at Eddie.

“Eddie, h-he’s my friend. Thought it’d b-be alright if he tagged along.”

“The more the merrier, as they say. Ain’t that right, Billy-boy?” Richie said in a terribly fake British accent. Bill rolled his eyes. 

“If Miss Kersh isn’t here soon, I say we leave without her.” Bev chuckled, “Old hag thinks she can cure childhood trauma with words.”

Richie stood up, “Well, I’m not waiting around for her. She can look for us when she decides to show up,  _ if  _ she decides to show up.”

Mike narrowed his eyes for a moment, “She never really said she was coming.”

“True…” Stan mumbled.

“Tip Tip and tally ho, my good fellows!” Richie smirked and looked back, “Let’s Start this grand adventure, eh?”

The others sighed and followed him as he approached the carnival, but he was stopped as he walked into Miss Kersh herself.

“Richie, I see you’ve taken up a leader role.”

“Hardly,” Richie frowned, “You just suck at yours.”

She frowned, but decided not to say anything else on the matter, instead she moved on. “Alright children, I’m going to split you all up into pairs, here are your ride passes.” She handed them out, “I’ll assign you a partner. Richie and Stanley, Beverly and Ben, and Bill and Mike.” She then noticed Eddie.

“Uhh, hi. I’m Bill, Stan, and Beverly’s friend, I tagged along.”

“You can join Stan and Richie.”

“Okay…”

Richie smirked, “Welcome to the fucking Loser’s club, Eds.”

“Don’t call me that!”

“What? Loser or Eds?” Richie snickered as he asked.

“Both!” Eddie rolled his eyes and walked over by Stan. 

And so, they broke off from the others and wandered around. Stan and Eddie walked behind Richie as Richie silently walked. He kept trying to think of something to say, but Stan and Eddie were having a dumb conversation about sewers and Richie really didn’t understand what they he’ll they meant.

“I’m not looking through them again, have you seen the grey-water?! How does Bill walk through that shit!”

“Why are you guys looking in sewers?” Richie turned around and stared at them, they frowned at him. 

Eddie and Stan exchanged a glance before Eddie decided to be the one to speak, “Bill’s little brother went missing a while ago. Bill thinks that he’s alive and got swept away in the sewers.”

“Oh, that’s the Georgie he talked about in the therapy thingy?” 

Stan nodded, If a kid goes missing in Derry, they aren’t gonna be found. Bill is just in denial.”

Richie nodded, he’d heard of the bad reputation Derry had. After yesterday, he was even more aware. His parents probably didn’t even look into that, probably wasn’t even something Derry advertised.

“So Eddie, are you the only person in your friend group who doesn’t need a shrink?”

Eddie shrugged, “I wanted to join your group therapy program, my mom doesn’t think I need it. She says I couldn't possibly be unhappy or depressed.” He sighed, “She only cares about my physical health.”

Richie couldn’t understand Eddie’s situation, but it wasn’t Richie’s place to say anything else on the matter. But then he had an idea, “I could sneak you in to the sessions, if you really think you wanna open up to a group of people, plus Miss Kersh.”

“I-“ Eddie began, but it was almost as if he couldn’t even come up with any words to say. “I Uh, you really don’t need to-“

“If you think it’ll help you, I wanna help.”

Eddie was silent a moment, Richie could almost hear the debate he was having with himself. His eyes darted from the floor, to Stan, then to Richie. Richie almost wanted to laugh, it seemed kind of adorable in a very dorky way. “Yeah. Okay, I’ll take you up on that.”

And so, Richie and Eddie exchanged phone numbers and addresses, Stan stood there quietly. Stan had a lot going on in his head, Richie wondered what he was thinking all the time. Was he thinking about his life? His burning hatred for everything? 

They then began wandering around, the different rides seeming cool, but overall not anything they felt like riding. And then Eddie saw the mirror maze and became intrigued. 

“We should go, I wanna know what it’s like!” Eddie exclaimed, he was practically dragging Stan behind him.

“No!” Stan protested, “I am  _ not _ going in there!”

Eddie stopped in his tracks and stared at Stan, a silent argument was happening between them. Richie stared at them, wondering if it’d ever end. Stan was stubborn, but Eddie seemed stubborn as well.

“I can go in the mirror maze with you, Eddie. Stan can stay behind and scope out some good food stands.” Richie hated conflict, though the black eye on his face said otherwise, it really wasn’t something he was interested in. He’d dealt with it enough in the past few months.

Eddie sighed and nodded, “Yeah, okay.”

They entered the mirror maze, Richie in the lead as he kept bumping into his own reflection. He was starting to realize just why Stan refused to go inside, wherever Richie turned he only saw himself, everywhere he turned. It was easy to stop and stare at his own worth, who was Richie Tozier? Richie couldn’t know, he never did.

“Richie?” Eddie seemed nervous, his voice squeaky and frail, it could almost barely be heard. Richie turned around and watched Eddie stare at something, “I just heard the door lock.”

“Okay?” Richie shrugged, “Probably to keep us from getting out the easy way, let’s just get to the exit.”

Eddie nodded and followed Richie, after a while of Richie waiting up for him, he grabbed Eddie’s arm and dragged him behind him.

“Hey!” Eddie groaned, “Let Go of me! I don’t know what kind of germs you have on you!”

Richie smirked and looked over at him, “Me neither, wanna find out?”

Eddie then scrunched his nose and shook his head as he followed behind Richie, who still loosely held onto his arm. They passed by the mirror of their faces, their bodies, it was a room of just them. Everywhere they turned, and of course this meant they kept bumping into the mirrors and shouting a whole arsenal of swear words.

And when they reached the door to the exit, it wouldn’t open. Now, Eddie was now certain that it was on purpose, but who exactly wanted to shove two teenage boys into a mirror maze and not let them out? Stan surely wouldn’t get a laugh out of that, Bev would but never would do it to Eddie, and the others weren’t the type to pull pranks. So, there they were.

“Well fuck,” Richie turned over and sat down in front of the door, “Guess I’ll wait for the killer clown to come and eat my limbs.”

“Hey!” Eddie smacked his shoulder, “Not funny! We’re at a carnival and locked in a maze!”

“Thank you, Captain obvious. Like to tell me every detail about this situation?”

Eddie’s face turned a slight red as he balled his fists and groaned. He was a small ball of anger, Richie found it funny. Richie didn’t know much about Eddie, didn’t know what to think of him or what Eddie was even like as a person. But Richie liked him, he would make a fun friend. It would especially be enjoyable for Richie to tease him and for him to constantly bicker with Richie.

“Got any hairpins, by any chance?” Eddie asked with a sigh, he slid down to the ground and sat with his arms hugging his knees. Richie shook his head and tried to think of a way out. Maybe if they were lucky, a ride operator would notice that the doors were locked and let them out, or maybe they’d never notice or care and the two of them would die after a while.

“So, how is the black eye?” Eddie asked after a while of silence. He had been staring at Richie for a while, Richie had been conjuring up the perfect response.

“Oh, ya know, Swollen.” 

“Did you even put ice on it afterwards?”

“Course I did.” Richie hadn’t even known how to treat a black eye, hadn’t even cared. If his mother hadn’t given him that ice pack, he would’ve just let it be and waited for it to stop hurting.

“Why are you even friends with Connor Bowers? That gives Henry just another reason to hate you, and he hates everyone.”

“Because Connor had no friends, neither did I. He was nice to me and I was nice to him, so we became friends.” Richie sighed, “I know what it’s like, to feel as alone as he did. I knew what he was feeling and I wanted to help him, even if it’s not fully, at least I can say I didn’t just walk away.”

Eddie sighed and nodded, he opened his mouth to speak, but then was startled by the sound of the door being pushed at. The pair sat and stared at it and awaited whatever would happen next, though they were certain that it was just an employee who noticed the situation. 

Sure enough, the door opened and a confused teenager stood there with his uniform that was a bit too large on him. 

Before he could say anything, Richie grabbed Eddie’s arm and ran out of the maze as he laughed. 

“Well Eds, that was fun!”

Eddie groaned, “I am NEVER going in a mirror maze again! Or any maze!”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I got a dude from work fired for being a creep towards me, that’s fun :)
> 
> Anyways, I should rewatch IT so I can get back into the mood of this fic.


	9. Monday: a day of bullshit

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie Tozier finds out that things aren’t that different from the situation he was in before and tries to push people away; but Eddie Kaspbrak is hard to be mean to, especially when he’s getting beat up by Henry Bowers.

There was a rustle in the wind, a flash of light before his eyes as he locked the door to his house behind him. He wanted to dismiss this as just a flashlight or maybe just a reflection from the headlights of his truck, but his truck was off and it was silent throughout the street. He believed in ghosts, he really did, but whatever he just saw couldn’t have been caused by a ghost. 

He sighed and hopped into his truck and decided to forget about it. The previous day had went by nicely, he felt as though he was a bit more friendly towards his therapy group and he wanted to think that they’d all get along eventually. Not that they didn’t get along, they did, just not as much as he wished.

It was officially week number two of being at Derry High, the first had gone by slowly and he wasn’t quite sure he was fond of the place. The black eye on his face surely didn’t make him happy to park his truck in that parking lot and step foot onto the cold concrete. But seeing the sandy curls of Connor Bowers definitely made him feel a bit better.

“Richie, you need to know something before you go inside…” Connor had whispered this after running over to Richie, a concerned gaze set on his face. Richie frowned and waited for Connor to continue, which took a minute to two. Connor seemed to not know what words to say. “They- people are talking about you…”

He raised a brow, “What are they saying?” This situation was starting to feel way too familiar, way too similar to the events of the past few months. He was almost scared to step into the school now, or to even hear what Connor would say next. 

“They’re saying you’re like Henry, that you’re gonna join his gang and beat people up....”

Richie stared at him for a moment and after a moment of silence, he laughed. “What the actual fuck? That’s the dumbest rumor I’ve ever heard, and trust me, I’ve heard a lot!” Connor stared at him with a confused stare as Richie just laughed. 

“Richie, this isn’t funny. It might sound dumb, but people are believing it!” Connor grabbed Richie’s shoulders and stared into his eyes. Connor’s eyes were blue, Richie had noticed this before, but he didn’t really notice how blue they were. Maybe the fact that his eyes were a bit pink from crying helped the blue color pop, but still, they were very blue. 

“It’ll be fine, I’m sure it’ll blow over after a week.” Richie then gently pushed Connor’s hands off of him and began approaching the large building. Connor sighed and followed after him.

“You really think so?” Connor’s voice was hesitant, very unsure of what Richie had said.

“Yeah sure, what’s the worst that could happen?”

Richie pushed open the doors of the school and walked inside. He wasn’t sure what he was expecting, but he wasn’t expecting everyone to immediately look over at him and start whispering. It was a moment straight out of a corny movie, even Richie was beginning to doubt his own words from before.

He sighed and headed to his classroom, Connor was long-gone and had run off to hide from the attention. Richie wanted to comfort him, but he was certain that wasn’t the best decision for the situation.

He looked down and the floor as he walked, not looking up to watch where he was going, and this ended with him bumping straight into someone. 

“Fuck.” He hissed as he looked up, he didn’t know the person he had bumped into, but they looked angry.

“Watch where you’re going!” The tone was harsh, spat with as much acid as the guy could muster. Richie was almost convinced he’d unknowingly killed this guy’s family, because that was way too hostile for just bumping into him. Richie sighed and turned to go to his classroom. It was empty, not even the teacher to keep him company. He sat down in the cold seat and set his bag on the ground. He debated taking a quick nap, sleeping through the hour, but he knew it’d be better not to. He wasn’t exactly sure what to do about the situation, the rumors sounded dumb and he was sure most people were uncertain of it, but he couldn’t be so sure. Connor seemed pretty scared, even Richie had to admit that the way he was being stared at was unsettling.

“Mr. Tozier?” Richie looked up to see his teacher standing in the doorway with an uncertain gaze settled on the lanky teen.

“Yeah?”

“Are you alright? You look a bit pale.”

Richie was usually pale, so obviously he was pale. Wasn’t his fault. “Yeah, I’m great.”

The teacher didn’t say anything else as she walked to her desk and set the stack of papers down. There was seven minutes until class began and Richie decided he wouldn’t just sit in silence the whole time. He put in his earbuds and grabbed his bag as he headed out of the classroom and down the long hallway. He started walking down random halls and hoping to not run into anyone else, but then he stopped when he noticed a certain locker. It was like the rest of the lockers, a bright red color and very tall, but this one had words written all over it, all containing some form of the word “fat.”

In front of this locker was none other than Ben Hanscom, who held onto his books and stared at the sight in front of him. 

Now, Richie usually would pretend to not see anything and walk away, but Ben was in his therapy group and Richie really didn’t want to hear him complain about his damn locker. And he also felt like shit at the thought of walking away, but that was besides the point.

“Hey, Ben.”

Ben turned around with a solemn Look on his face, Richie wanted to hug him but he didn’t really know if Ben would like that. “Richie?”

“Yep, ‘tis I, local trashmouth!” He then softened his voice, “You know who did that?”

Ben shrugged, “No, it was there when I got here and I couldn’t bring myself to open it.”

Richie wasn’t good at problem-solving, no he was terrible at that, but at the moment he felt like he knew what to do. “Here, you can use my locker until that gets cleaned up.” Richie walked up to the cold metal and rubbed against the writing, it didn’t smear, didn’t even budge. It was written in permanent marker, there was no chance that it would come off on its own.

“Are you sure…?” Ben asked As Richie dragged him along, “Really, I’m sure I can figure something else out-“

“I don’t really use my locker that much anyways,” Richie stopped in front of his locker and opened it up, then signaled for Ben to put his things in it. Ben was unsure of if he should or not, but one push from Richie and he was starting to set his books inside. 

“Thanks Richie,” Ben smiled at him for a moment, “I- I really appreciate it.”

Richie nodded, “Anytime.”

————————————-

“Tozier, I heard what they’re saying…” Bev immediately pulled out her box of Marlboro cigarettes and her lighter as she entered the bathroom. She sat down next to him and stared at him with creased brows.

“Yeah? Sounds like elementary shit.”

“Well yeah, but still. People are believing it.” Bev sighed, “You know what? You and Connor should come sit with the Loser’s club.”

“The Loser’s club?” Richie laughed, but Bev just sighed and shook her head. 

“We’re social outcasts, Bill has a stutter, Stan is Jewish, Eddie is a hypochondriac, and I’m considered the school slut. You’ll fit right in.”

“And be what? The school stoner? The new kid?”

“I was thinking something like ‘local trashmouth’ or something. Whatcha think?”

Richie burst out laughing, he actually liked it. Everyone at his old school called him that, he never thought it’d stick. And sure, he often found himself calling himself that, even earlier when he was talking to Ben.. “I love it, Marsh, but I don’t know if I wanna sit with you and your club.”

“Oh come on, not like they’ll push you away. You and Eddie got along pretty well yesterday, and Stan doesn’t seem to hate you too much anymore.” Bev sighed, “Listen, you can’t just sit in this bathroom everyday and smoke until you burn your lungs. Live a little, Richie.”

Richie shrugged and stared at his cigarette, “You’re one to talk.”

“I don’t smoke everyday, I’m trying to quit. I started smoking because I was angsty and sad, but now I want to try and fix this mess I made for myself. You should too.”

Richie wasn’t good at people talking about his mental health or his smoking habit, and this was no exception. He usually would make a joke to change the subject, but Beverly wouldn’t laugh and she’d press on the subject. She’s not like one of the ‘friends’ from New York that never even listened to him until he decided to do something about it. She actually listened, and she cared. It would be easier for Richie, if she just didn’t care. But she was a good person, she wouldn’t abandon someone she thought needed help.

“What are you trying to learn? What do you think you’ll gain from befriending me?” He had to push her away, push her off of the fucking bridge of his life. He was fine, he didn’t need her help or pity or whatever it was that she was doing.

“I- What are you talking about?” At this point, her cigarette was a small bud that she threw on the floor and stomped out. She stared at Richie with confusion and almost seemed offended. “I want to be your friend Richie, and friends help each other.”

“Who said I wanted to be your friend?! Why the actual fuck would I-“

Beverly slapped his face, her hand was cold and angry, her brows knit together while a huge frown fell upon her expression. She was mad, very mad. Richie hated seeing her mad, hated seeing the results of his own negative actions, but he had to. He couldn’t add her name to the autobiography of the dumpster fire he called his life.

“What the fuck are you saying?!” Bev fumed, “Why are you pushing me away?!” Her hands were balled into fists, but they weren’t shaking in rage or right with hatred, they were calm and caring, ones that would quickly unfold and wrap around your body to hug you.

Richie didn’t know how to respond, so he dropped the cigarette onto the ground and picked up his bag and left, leaving Beverly all alone in the abandoned bathroom with a still-burning cigarette laying on the messy tiles.

  
  
  


————————-

  
  
  


It was the last period of the day, Richie was about ready to just run, maybe to his truck, maybe somewhere else. All he knew was that he couldn’t fucking breathe.

“You know, I don’t think the rumors are true,” a girl spoke, Richie turned over to see Greta Bowie. “You don’t seem like you could be friends with Henry Bowers.”

Richie didn’t know much about Greta, but he did know she was the equivalent of this school’s Regina George or Heather Chandler, she was a fucking bitch that everyone wanted to be. She was the kind of girl that Richie hated, especially when she chewed that pink bubblegum obnoxiously and blew a bubble every few minutes. But Greta seemed to like Richie, for whatever reason. Maybe he gave off bad-boy vibes that made her think he was so hot, or maybe she was just into ugly lanky guys with large glasses and past trauma.

He rolled his eyes and sighed, “The rumors are bullshit.” She giggled at that and sat down next to him.

“You’re cute,” she smirked, “I’m having a party tonight. You should come.” She leaned in to his ears and brushed some of his hair out of the way, “Don’t bring any friends, we don’t wanna get caught by Officer Bowers, now do we?”

Richie liked parties, but he hated Greta. But he liked parties a lot, so he decided that whatever happens with Greta won’t matter. It wasn’t like he was gonna make out with her or have sex with her, he really wasn’t that kind of guy. “Yeah, sure.”

And then the bell rang, it was a sound of freedom to Richie. Greta said her goodbyes to him, only after writing down both her number and her address, and then they both left. Richie was certain he could sneak off to that party without his mother or father knowing where he actually was. He needed something like a party to calm him down. When he was thirteen, he was a goody-two shoes. Always doing as he was told and focusing on schoolwork, but then he grew up and life began to suck, so he stopped being such a fucking loser and began getting used to the world.

He walked down the long and loud halls, a certain angsty feeling in his mind as he processed the day. He may have ruined a friendship with Bev, maybe not though. He sighed and slumped over as he turned the corner, he was glad to hear silence until he realized why this hallway was almost completely empty, that Henry Bowers and his gang were towering over Eddie Kaspbrak, who was pinned against a set of lockers and muttering an arsenal of swear words.

“What the fuck, Henry?” Richie groaned, “Don’t you know you’re only supposed to go after people with the same dick size as you?” 

It was a weak joke, but he knew Henry would find a way to get mad at it. The Fucker got mad at people just breathing, so this would surely work.

Henry turned around to face Richie, “You trying to say I have a small dick or something?!”

“Not exactly,” Richie smirked, “But I think you just did.”

Henry let go of Eddie and turned towards Richie, his hands formed as fists. His gang was staring, unsure of what was happening or what to do. They released Eddie after a few minutes, the smaller boy quickly ran over to the other side of the hall. 

Now, Richie was no idiot. He knew full well that he wouldn’t win a fight against Henry Bowers, so he had a plan. Distract Henry and his goons so that Eddie could run to safety, and then run away as fast as he could. Richie was a fast runner, Henry was not.

Richie stared at Eddie, who stood and watched. Richie swatted his hand towards Eddie, signaling him to run, and Eddie nodded and ran before Henry caught on to what he was doing. 

“The fuck are you doing?!” Henry muttered, Richie quickly looked behind himself and eyed what would be his exit. He turned back around to face Henry, who snarled his teeth like a fucking dog.

Richie smirked, “Go blow your dad, you mullet-wearing asshole!” He then turned around and bolted, he heard Henry yell and heard the echo of footsteps running behind him, but he wouldn’t let himself turn around. That’d only slow him down. Eventually, his eye caught sight of the abandoned bathroom and he quickly opened the door and shoved it closed, the footsteps ran past the door. 

He sighed and slouched to the ground, gasping for the breath he had lost. He wondered where Eddie had ran off to, but he assumed it was somewhere safe. He had grown fond of the shorter boy, and Richie had to admit he was quite cute. Not that he would admit that out loud, no that wouldn’t be taken the right way out loud.

“Richie?” The door had opened, Eddie stood in the doorway with a relieved look on his face. “Oh thank god You’re okay!” He entered and closed the door behind him, “I though Bowers was gonna Murder you.”

Richie snickered, “Probably wanted to.”

Eddie sighed and sat down next to him, he gazed i to Richie’s eyes with a soft smile. “Thanks for saving be back there, Henry was in the mood to punch my lights out.”

Richie smirked, “Anytime, Eds.” He sat up and looked down at his shoes, a pair of old and worn out converse. “Wanna hang out? Maybe go to the park or some shit?”

Eddie frowned, “I can’t, my Mom will freak if I’m not home in time. My face will be on every milk carton until I get home. Also, don’t call me that.”

“Oh come on,” Richie put a hand on Eddie’s shoulder, “Just mention my name and your mom will let ya. Just don’t be surprised when you hear her moaning my name all night!”

Eddie jabbed his elbow into Richie’s ribcage and groaned, “Shut up!”

Richie chuckled as he rubbed his ribs, “Come on Eddie, live a little?”

Eddie was quiet for a moment before sighing, “I can’t today, but tomorrow after school?”

“Sounds great,” Richie chuckled, “Wanna walk home together then?” 

Eddie nodded, so Richie grinned and stood up, offering a hand for Eddie to stand up as well. Eddie took it and let Richie pull him up. E

They ran out of the bathroom and began discussing where they’d go, Richie had closed his eyes and began walking at a fast pace. He opened his eyes as he ran right into the school janitor.

“Shit! Sorry!” Richie mumbled, but then he looked up at the janitors face and frowned.

“Oh it’s quite alright, Mr. Tozier. You should go home now, yes?”

“Yeah, you’re right Mr. Gray, let’s go Richie.” Eddie pulled Richie along and out the school doors. “Everything okay?”

Richie looked back and saw the janitor staring at them, “Has he always worked here?”

Eddie nodded, brows furrowed with a slight frown, “Yeah, why?”

“Nothing,” Richie sighed and turned back to face Eddie. “He Just looked familiar.”

  
  
  
  
  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I rewatched IT Chapter 2 the other day and noticed that Ben’s locker had been vandalized and it made me really sad... so I had to include it :(
> 
> Anyways, these kids can’t catch a break.


	10. Beverly Marsh Can’t Stop Being A Mom

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> When Richie goes to Greta’s party, he gets a bit high and Beverly Marsh proves that she’s the best mother in her life.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi I’m alive

The thing about being high was that you could ignore the thoughts in your mind and just live. It was a blissful feeling to Richie Tozier, one he craved with every waking moment in his life. 

He didn’t get high often, no that wasn’t something he thought he deserved. He deserved to live through each and every toxic thought, each feeling and each movement. He deserved it all, so he only got high whenever he knew the thoughts were too loud to ignore, like when he was at a high school party at Greta Bowie’s house. He had no clue where he got the weed from, he just knew someone offered it and he accepted. It was a quick decision for him, seeing as he felt so isolated, so alone. The attention wasn’t on him, everyone was huddled in groups and chatting. Richie didn’t know the majority of the people there, and he was guessing they didn’t know him either. 

Let’s just say that he was starting to regret coming, even the feeling of being high couldn’t help him from the feeling he dreaded. 

Red solo cups littered the house, bottles of alcohol scattered around. Some empty, some not, but Richie made sure to fill his own solo cup with some of the clear liquids. He never really drank much, only at parties. His own mother only preferred wine, which tasted bitter to him. Sure, there were some people who’d sell alcohol to minors, but he never wanted to go out of his way for a bit of beer.

  
  


“Hey,” Greta Keene finally made her appearance, and oh did she make it clear she wanted attention. She stood next to Richie at the kitchen counter and grabbed herself a red solo cup and filled it with vodka. “Glad you came.” And of course, her signature bubblegum popping. Richie was betting that she had a whole drawer full of packs of gum.

“Can’t say no to a party,” he hummed. The smell of weed filled the air and he almost wanted to go find another blunt, but he stayed where he was and decided he’d let the high kick in a bit more. 

He was starting to feel it, the fuzzy feeling, the ease. But it wasn’t enough yet, he needed more.

“Did you party a lot in your old town?”

He shrugged, “Sometimes.” 

She leaned in closer to him, which made him frown. He felt uncomfortable, he wanted to just back away and run out the door. He didn’t like her, not even a little bit. But she kept coming closer and closer, her hand was starting to reach for his when a certain voice interrupted.

“There you are!” Beverly Marsh, the same girl he’d pushed away earlier was now saving him from Greta Keene. “It doesn’t take ten minutes to get me a drink, Richie!” She walked over to him and poured herself a drink, “Oh, Greta.”

“If it isn’t Beaverly.” Greta groaned and backed away, “Figures he’d go for the school slut. What are you even doing here?”

“I heard the call of a party and couldn’t resist, now if you can go away that’d be great.” Bev chuckled, “I don’t think Richie likes you very much.”

Greta rolled her eyes and stormed off into another room, which left Richie and Beverly staring at one another.

“I didn’t need your help.” Richie was lying, he was grateful for her. Beverly was truly a gem, but he couldn’t just pretend he hadn’t said what he said earlier. She couldn’t just forgive him so easily, and he wouldn’t let her.

“Yeah, you kinda did.” She leaned back against the counter and sighed, “What’s going on with you today? You’re acting like a bitch.”

“I’m not being a bitch.” He sighed, “You are. Why can’t you just leave me alone?!”

Bev furrowed her brows as she stood up straight. Richie didn’t really feel bad, no he felt rather numb. Was he in the wrong? Probably. But he couldn’t find the will to care. He didn’t have to deal with the aftermath, he could just shut her out forever.

“Fine.” He wasn’t expecting her to just walk away, he’d expected her to apologize or do anything else. But no, there went Beverly Marsh, and he was all alone and surrounded by drugs and alcohol. He wasn’t an addict to anything but nicotine, so he decided that he’d go all the way. 

And yeah, maybe it was a bad idea in retrospect, but he felt free. So, fuck it.

//////////////

  
  
  


Believe it or not, Beverly Marsh had feelings. She had a life and she had memories, She was a living person. And yeah, she wanted to help Richie out with making friends. She knew how lonely Derry could be without friends, she knew how it felt to eat lunch in the fucking bathroom of all places. So really, she felt like shit just walking away. But he didn’t want her there, so whatever. She went to that party to have fun, so why let him get in the way? It was her one chance to have any social life outside of her small circle of friends, so she’d take the chance. Richie could handle himself, she was certain of it.

She wasn’t going to go to the party at all, she hadn’t even been invited. She’d heard rumors and decided to make an appearance, and there she was. Greta could suck her dick. 

She had been excited when she first saw Richie was there, she needed someone to talk to and joke around with so she wouldn’t be alone. Being alone meant no one to distract her from her thoughts, no one to make her realize that she’s alive and living. But she’d forgotten that Richie decided to push her away, and even saving him from Greta didn’t get her any brownie points.

Whatever. Bev took a sip of beer and walked through the house. It was small, her mother worked an office job and her father owned a pharmacy. They weren’t exactly basking in money, but they were comfortable. Comfortable enough to spend so much money on Greta.

She found herself a spot on a couch and pulled out her phone, her thumb hovered over the group chat before she clicked on Bill’s contact and began typing.

  
  
  
  


Bev: Wyd

It was only a minute before she got a response.

Billy-Boy: I’m out taking Silver for a ride

Bev: you should stop at Greta’s house and save me :)

Billy-Boy: I’m not going anywhere near that house. Save yourself :)

Bev: :(

Billy-Boy: it was your choice to go in the first place

Bev: mom pick me up, kids are drinking alcohol :(

Billy-Boy: im guessing you’re drinking 

Bev: ;)

Billy-Boy: Have fun with your hangover tomorrow at school

Bev: come on! You don’t want me walkimh drunk!

Billy-Boy: You aren’t drunk yet. You can’t even type when you’re drunk >:(

Bev: Why you gotta expose me like that

Billy-Boy: Bev just go home if you don’t wanna be there 

Bev: But I’m babysitting >:(

Billy-Boy: at a party? Yeah, totally.

Bev: our pal Richie is here tho. He’s high off his ass haha

Billy-Boy: sounds like his problem

Bev: well yeah, but no! >:( 

Billy-Boy: He can take care of himself. Go HOME

Bev chuckled and began typing out her next text, but was interrupted by a loud noise in the other room. She typed a quick ‘Brb Billy-o’ and walked through the doorway. There she saw Richie, he had fallen to the floor and was laughing as a group of seniors laughed. His nose was bleeding, but she couldn’t tell what had happened. All she could tell was that he was high and hurt and everyone was laughing at him. She couldn’t help but remember a situation similar to that with Stan, and so she ran over to Richie, grabbed his arm and dragged him away. She ignored his protests, didn’t even bother listening until she dragged him out the front door and onto the sidewalk. 

“Bev! Let me go!” He yanked at her grip, but she didn’t budge. She wouldn’t just stand around this time.

“Where’s your truck?” She couldn’t find it, which was strange since the damn thing was impossible not to see. 

“I walked,” He groaned, “So my truck is at HOME.”

She stared at him, his nose still dripping a bit of blood. She didn’t carry around tissues like Eddie did, and she had nothing to wipe the blood with. So he’d have to fucking deal with it. “What happened?” She sounded angry, and her words came out harsher than she’d meant them to, but he barely reacted to her tone.

He just shrugged and sat down on the concrete. 

“Richie.”

“What? Are you gonna count?” He groaned and fell back onto the grass, “You’re such a mother.”

She sighed and took out her phone, Stan could drive. He’d be able to pick them up. There was no way in hell she’d leave him in the streets while he was high and possibly drunk.

She dialed his number and waited for him to pick up, which he usually did. 

“Hello?” 

“Hey, Stan. Can you do me a favor?”

“Uhh, yeah?”

“Drive to Greta Bowie’s house to pick me up? And another person too.”

“Umm, sure. Who are you with?” He didn’t sound too irritated, which was good. He sometimes got mad at her for always asking for rides.

“Oh, Y’know.. Richie.” She was a bit nervous, because Stan’s opinion on Richie was a bit unsteady. She wasn’t quite sure on his current opinion of the trashmouth.

“Ok. I’ll be there in a few minutes.” 

She smiled and hung up, then looked at Richie. He was staring at the sky with an intent look on his face.

She used to be like that. Getting wrecked at parties every weekend, doing dumb things all the time. She sometimes missed it, but she wanted to fix her life. Ever since she moved in with her aunt, she’d decided to start anew. Be a better person. And so that’s what she did, but she had only made a small amount of progress. She gave up parties, (mostly), and she’d stopped smoking anything but her Marlboro cigarettes. (That was something that she couldn’t give up so easily, because apparently when people say addictions are hard to overcome, they meant it.) 

“Richie, how old were you when you started partying and doing drugs and shit?”

“I dunno,” he mumbled, “Maybe eleven?”

“And why’d you start?” Curiosity killed the cat, sure, but she wondered how similar they were. She was certain that his father wasn’t abusive and his mother dead, but she wondered if their mindsets were similar.

“Bev, I am too high for that question,” He chuckled. “Do you like bunnies?”

“Uhm, I guess so.”

He sat up and pointed towards the bushes, “Look, a bunny.”

She looked over and spotted the small furry creature. It was a soft brown color, it looked young as well. She stared at the bunny for a moment before looking at the street, where Stan’s car just parked. He rolled down the window and sighed.

“Well?”

Bev stood up and helped Richie up, she hauled him into the back of Stan’s car and sat next to him. The passenger seat was occupied by Eddie Kasbrak.

“Oh, hey Eddie!” Eddie stared at Richie with a scowl.

“Why is he bleeding?”

Bev shrugged, “I found him like that.”

Eddie immediately opened up his Fanny pack and grabbed a few tissues and handed them to Richie, who stared at them.

“Huh?”

“For your nose,” Eddie furrowed his brows as he watched Richie stare at the tissues.

“What about my nose?”

“It’s bleeding?” 

Richie rubber a finger under his nose and stared at the blood. “Oh. Yeah I guess so.”

“So Bev, what now?” Stan asked, “Where should I drive?”

“My house. I’m not evil enough to send him to his parents like this.” She chuckled, “My aunt won’t be home until later so it’ll be fine.”

Stan nodded, putting the car in drive and heading to Bev’s house. She’d probably have him sleep over, which would be weird but she didn’t think any other option sounded ideal.

When they arrived, they all entered the house. She set up a spot for Richie to sit, which was on her couch, and then gave him a glass of water. Stan and Eddie sat next to Richie and talked about a show they liked. 

“What’s your number, Richie?” She’d known him for a week, yet she’d never bothered to ask.

He frowned, his fingers fumbled with the glass. “Uhm, my phone isn’t really-“

“What? Does it not work or something.” She raised a brow, but widened her eyes when he pulled out a flip phone. “Dude… it’s 2016…”

“Yeah yeah, I know…” 

“Are Your parents strict or something?” Stan asked, his own parents were strict but not to that extent. 

He shrugged, “I used to have a smartphone.”

“What happened? Did you break it and couldn’t afford a new one?” Eddie asked, he seemed a bit intrigued by the device.

“Nah, I just couldn’t go on it without getting messages from people telling me to kill myself.” It was silent for a moment, they each gave Richie a horrified gaze that he didn’t seem to notice, “So I solved the problem!” He held the phone out and chuckled.

“Richie-“

“We should make cookies,” he stood up and didn’t lay anyone linger on the subject. She wondered if he even realized what he’d just said. She sighed and followed after him, the other two doing the same.

“BEV! Where the fuck is your baking shit!”

Beverly sighed and grabbed all the ingredients for cookies, Stan grabbed all the refrigerated ingredients as Eddie grabbed out the mixing bowl. Richie was attempting to preheat the oven, but couldn’t seem to figure out which temperature to do. Bev sighed and helped him, then turned to the others. They each exchanged a glance before silently agreeing to talk about it later.

“So Richie, you like baking?” She asked him, he just shrugged.

“I used to. When I was in middle school it was a hobby, but I stopped one day and I haven’t since.” He scooped flour into a measuring cup, “But it’s still fun. How about you!”

Bev shrugged, “I only recently learned a few baking recipes, my aunt didn’t realize I’d never baked before and was determined to teach me.”

Stan frowned, “I can only eat kosher food at home, and my parents don’t like junk food. I’ve only ever baked with friends.”

Richie smiled and looked at Eddie, who shrugged.

“I don’t eat cookies. Too many things my mom doesn’t like me having.”

“Boo!” Richie snickered, “Eat cookies!” Beverly stopped the mixing bowl and poured in chocolate chips, the rest of the ingredients all mixed up. Richie took a small chunk of dough and ate it, smiling afterwards.

“You did not just-“ Eddie looked horrified, disgusted even, “Do you know how bad that is? The egg is still RAW! Go wash your hands! Do you know how much bacteria-“

“Woah, ‘tis cookie dough, my friend,” Richie smirked and grabbed another chunk, then tried feeding it to Eddie. “Open for the choo choo train!” He chuckled, but Eddie groaned and smacked his hand away.

“Now you have to throw that away! I’m not eating filthy cookies! And I’m not eating something with RAW EGG!”

Bev and Stan chuckled as they watched the two bicker. Richie was adamant on Eddie trying cookie dough, and Eddie was certain that he wouldn’t give in.

Spoiler alert: Richie shoved the cookie dough in Eddie’s mouth. But Eddie spit it out, and Richie admitted defeat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s been almost a month since I posted the last chapter :( I feel really bad but I’ve had no free time lately. 
> 
> This is my third week I’ve overtime at work (yay money) so I’ve been a bit stressed but my manager told me she’s gonna try not to get anyone overtime for the next few weeks. I’ll still have about forty hours a week, but better than almost fifty. 
> 
> Anyways, I’ve been trying to leave the time setting of this to be a bit unclear, because Richie isn’t really using modern technology. So yeah, this is the first chapter to confirm the modern setting haha
> 
> As for what he said to the others about why he has a flip phone... yeah, haha. More explanation in the next chapter hopefully.
> 
> Anyways, hopefully I’ll get the next chapter out soon :)


	11. The Truth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The next morning, Richie doesn’t remember anything from the previous night. All he knows is he woke up in Beverly’s house and his parents were worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Why did Richie move?   
> What was the incident?  
> Why did he get bullied to the extent of getting a flip phone?
> 
> Answers shall be given

Waking up on Beverly Marsh’s couch was definitely something he didn’t expect. Though he had no idea what happened that night, everything was a blur in his mind. 

Beverly Marsh in question was nowhere to be found, though he didn’t even stand up and go search the rest of the house. Only stared at the picture of her that was hung on the wall. The last thing he remembered was yelling at Bev, telling her not to help him. That memory stung, but it was all his fault. He wanted to push her away, but she was only proving that she was someone worth being friends with.

“Your parents have been calling a lot,” Richie looked up to see Stan staring at him from the doorway, “So we ended up answering so you didn’t end up scaring them to death.”

“Uh, thanks.” Richie rubbed his eyes and sighed, “What happened yesterday?”

Stan widened his eyes for a moment before closing them and sighing, “I guess you blacked out. I don’t really know much, Bev found you at Greta’s party with a bloody nose and called me to pick you guys up. We came here and made cookies, then watched movies and went to bed.”

Richie nodded, “Sounds like fun. Wish I could remember that.”

Stan nodded and stared at him, Richie seemed different. Quiet, reserved, almost a shell of who he usually was. Stan couldn’t help but remember what Richie had said that night and wondered if that was who Richie became. Maybe the Richie he knew was just an act, one to seem noticeable. “Your parents want you to check in with them before you go to school.”

Richie nodded, “Makes sense.” The last time he disappeared for that long was when the incident happened. ‘Th incident.’ He wasn’t sure if that was his favorite way to refer to what happened that night. He wasn’t sure if there was any way to refer to that night. He’d rather forget about it.

“What time is it?” 

“Six in the morning. You have an hour.” Stan sighed, “Eddie went home last night, Bev is talking to her aunt in the other room. So you’re stuck with me.” He sat down next to Richie and sighed, “Please tell me that you aren’t gonna make a habit out of that.”

Richie chuckled lightly, “Based on how shitty I feel right now, you’ll like my answer.”

Stan smiled slightly and nodded, but his smile vanished quickly. 

“Everything alright?” Richie stared at him, Stan didn’t look at him.

“How do you do it? How do you pretend to not care about anything?”

Richie didn’t have an answer. He wished it was simple, that he could give Stan a simple explanation, but there was nothing. “I guess I just don’t care, because I know nothing even matters anyways.”

Yeah, a bit dark and depressing, but it was the only words he could put to his feelings. And yeah, he did care, but he wouldn’t let himself show it as much as he wished he could.

He sighed and stood up, “I should head out, I have a stern talk with my parents to attend.”

“Need a Ride?”

“Nah, I’ll walk.”

Stan stood up and followed behind him, “I don’t think you even know where we are, seeing as you’ve never been to Bev’s house before.”

  
  


////////

Parent lectures were always dreadful, Richie could agree on that much. His own parents didn’t like resorting to yelling or berating, but sometimes he’d step out of line and they’d just be silent. It would be as if he weren’t even there, and that was the scary part. They’d acknowledge him, just only the bare minimum. 

But today they seemed to want to take a different approach. They were waiting for him when he entered the house, sitting down on the couch. Maggie was quiet, not doing anything. Wentworth was watching the news. 

“Not even a call?” Maggie began as he closed the door behind him, “Your friend had to answer. Had to explain you were asleep and lost track of time.”

“I did.”

“Don’t even lie, you went to that party, didn’t you?”

“How do you even know about a party?” Maggie wasn’t social with the other neighborhood moms, she focused on her family and her job, so the information of a party wouldn’t be something she’d know.

“It’s down the street, the cops were making a huge deal of busting it.” She sighed, “I thought you were clean.”

Richie groaned, “I wasn’t at that party!”

“Richard!” His father turned off the TV and stared at him, “No more lies! Tell us what’s going on!”

“Nothing is going on!”

“Richie! Last time you told us that-“

“I know what I did, Mom!” He spoke louder than he intended, more harsh than he ever would like to. He loved his mother dearly, and his father, and he’d hate himself for how he handled the whole conversation, but he couldn’t do it. He was far too stressed. “I know what happened last time, don’t remind me.”

Maggie stood up and walked towards him, she looked into his eyes and sighed as she pulled him into a hug. “You’ll never stop scaring me.”

He wanted to apologize, wanted to say sorry for how much of a screw-up he was, but instead he stayed silent. He was angry, but also a bit sad. Smad. He was sure there was a word for the feeling, but he didn’t care enough to know or to search for it. 

Maggie released the hug and smiled, “So, who’s Eddie?”

“Huh?”

“He’s the kid who answered your phone for you,” Wentworth sighed, “He seemed nice.”

“He’s, Uhm, he's a friend I guess.” 

////////

So yeah, Eddie Kaspbrak. Richie didn’t really know how to describe him, he was different than anyone he’d ever given the title ‘friend.’ Not in a bad way, he was just strange. Terrified of everything dirty, always striving for perfection, bossy as hell, Eddie was very different from Richie.

But still, there was something about him that drew Richie in. Maybe it was his soft eyes, the ones that stared at him with this hidden admiration. Or maybe it was his smile, the one that appeared when Richie’s jokes actually were funny.

“So I heard you were the lucky guy that had to talk to my parents last night.” They were at the barrens, walking around the area while talking. Richie hadn’t known what Eddie liked to do when hanging out with friends, but seeing as Richie was disconnected from modern technology, it seemed fitting.

Eddie nodded, “I figured they wouldn’t stop calling until someone did. They were angry too, but they were relieved when they heard you were alright.”

Richie nodded, “I terrify them every day at this point.”

Eddie chuckled, “I can tell. My own mother is terrified whenever I do anything. If I even cough she’ll think I’m sick.”

“That’s gotta suck,” Richie chuckled with Eddie, then smiled, “I don’t really know that much about you. How about we do a question game?” 

Eddie raised a brow, “What, is that something you guys do in your group therapy?”

“Nah, but I should definitely recommend it to the lady.” He smirked, “You Go first.”

“So any questions?” After Richie nodded, he continued, “Uhh, what’s your favorite animal?”

So maybe he was a bit awkward, but he didn’t see it as a terrible thing. He was a teenage boy for fucks sake, it’d be a shocker if he wasn’t. Richie liked that about Eddie though, he wasn’t perfect. He was human.

“Hmm, I haven’t thought about this in a while.” He found it odd how such a simple question was so hard to answer, so he quickly just picked a cool-looking animal so he didn’t seem weird. “Wolves are cool.”

Eddie nodded, “Yeah. Your turn.”

“Hmm, what’s your biggest fear?”

“Well, looks like you’re just going right for the big questions, huh?” He sighed, “Dying, that’s my biggest fear.”

“Really?” That actually shocked Richie. He expected some grand answer of germs or something, but death? Interesting. He used to be scared of deaths as well, but now he wasn’t sure he was. He thought about it a lot more than he’d like to.

“Well yeah, most people are. It’s human nature to be scared of it, I don’t really know why. It’s just… terrifying.” Eddie sighed and looked at the ground.

Richie actually knew the reasoning, he’d thought long and hard about it many times. “It’s because it’s unknown. People naturally fear anything unknown, and since we don’t know what’ll happen after death, we’re scared of it. Also how we’ll die, if it’ll be painful or not.”

Eddie nodded, “That makes sense. Ok, next question for you…” he paused for a moment and sighed, “Why’d you move here?” And there it was, the big question.

Yeah, why did he move to Derry? What was the big reason that Richie Tozier had to pack up all his belongings and leave everything he ever knew behind, leave behind everyone he ever knew, even his own sister who barely even said goodbye as she left for college. 

“Uhm, why do you wanna know?” Maybe he could get out of it, distract Eddie or even conjure up a lie, but he knew Eddie wouldn’t let it go.

“Because, it’s the one thing you avoid answering.” Richie really wanted to tell him a lie, saying it was just his father finding a nice job. But it wouldn’t take long for Eddie to discover that Wentworth was a dentist, and it wouldn’t take long for Richie to get drunk or high (or both) and reveal the truth. So he sighed and decided that he’d fucking say it. Fuck it, maybe saying it would help it hurt less.

But something still confused him, there was something Eddie knew, something to lead him to thinking it was bad. Richie did black out that night, he must’ve said something. He had to have.

“I said something last night, didn’t I?” 

Eddie stared at him for a moment before nodding, “You told us the reason you use a flip phone.”

Richie nodded, of course he had. 

“You didn’t say much, just enough to make me think it had to do with why you moved.” Eddie was fiddling with his fingers, almost nervous to hear the answer. Richie wanted to grab his hands and assure him that he didn’t need to worry, but what he had to say wasn’t gonna prove that true.

“Have you ever been to a mental hospital?” Richie asked, almost with a laugh. 

Eddie shook his head, listening quietly. Almost too scared to even speak.

“I had the luxury of being sent to one, just over a month ago. I stayed there up until two weeks ago, came back to my old school and was met with people who found out. Didn’t even take an hour for the death rumors to turn into rumors about my stay there, and pretty soon everyone was against me. They’d tell me to kill myself and to go back to where I belonged, so I skipped school. That’s when they decided to find my social media pages, then someone spread around my number. I was getting texts and calls all day, I couldn’t escape it.”

“Why would they do that?” Eddie frowned.

Richie chuckled, “Because apparently jumping off a bridge doesn’t give you cool points in high school.” Richie stood up and stared at Eddie, “Listen, me being in Derry was a way to forget what happened, so can you just shut up about it now?”

Eddie nodded, “Yeah, yeah of course.”

He didn’t think it would hurt that much to say it, but he found himself choking down tears as he tried to act normal. He could barely even tell the therapists at the mental hospital what happened, he was almost impressed he was able to say as much as he could.

“Next question, does Stan hate me? Or Bev, I was kinda mean to her.” Changing the subject was his only idea of shifting the mood, but his question wasn’t very light-hearted. Oh well.

Eddie quickly shook his head, “no! Of course not! They wanna be your friend, Stan just doesn’t know how to be nice to new people, and you’ve been pushing Bev away. But she understands, she just wants to make sure you’re okay!”

Richie nodded, “That’s good to know, Uhm, Anyways… wanna stop the question game?”

Eddie nodded, “Yeah, yeah that’s a good idea.”

They sat there on a fallen tree and stared off into the distance. The barrens could be pretty sometimes, and Richie felt like he could be there for hours.

“Hey, can I ask you something?” Eddie’s voice was quiet, barely audible. 

Richie nodded.

“Was it scary? Almost dying?”

He didn’t even have to think about it, “Terrifying.”

  
  
  


**Notes for the Chapter:**

> To me this whole thing seemed kind of obvious, but I guess that’s because I’m the writer haha. Anyways, this isn’t the last you’ll hear of the incident.


	12. Shoe in the Sewers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He didn’t know what was worse, Beverly’s forgiveness or the police sirens passing by.

Richie held many regrets, and currently his biggest one was pushing Bev away. He sat across from her at her lunch table, and she was acting like it never happened.

He didn’t know why that hurt more than when she argued with him, but it did. He didn’t feel he deserved her forgiveness so quickly, and she had to know she should’ve held it against him.

“Wanna go to the barrens with us after school?” It was Bill who asked the question, which surprised Richie. He wasn’t all that close with Bill, only talked to him in class or at that dumb group therapy. Either way, He wasn’t planning on missing the opportunity to be his friend. There was this certain aura around Bill, one that he admired. He couldn’t really explain it either, but he just knew he needed to stay around him.

“What’s at the barrens?” He still couldn’t see why it was so special, the place was surrounded by sewer water and mud, not his favorite place.

“His brother,” Stan mumbled, this resulted in Bill elbowing him in the gut. Stan Rolled his eyes, “What? It’s probably true. That’s where you think he is, right?”

Bill groaned, “I d-don’t know! That’s t-the only place I-I can think of!”

“Still confused.”

“Bill’s brother went missing and we think he’s somewhere near the barrens,” Bev explained, she set down her spork and sighed, “We check there each week, he disappeared in early October.”

“Last Month?” It was November, which was weird to think about because Richie barely remembered September and October. “Do you think he ran away or-“

“I don’t know!” Bill spoke a bit louder than he probably intended, and this caused Richie to flinch back. “I- um, s-sorry.”

“I’ll go,” Richie said as he stood up and grabbed his bag, “See you guys later.”

He wasn’t quite sure where he was going, lunch wasn’t over for another fifteen minutes. But he walked, and soon enough he figured it out.

He knew what to do, how to open the door and approach his friend. Connor was alone, hugging his knees in that bathroom, staring at the floor. Richie closed the door behind him and sat down next to him.

“This shithole stinks still.”

“When hasn’t it?” Connor raised his head and looked over at Richie, “Why’re you here? I thought Beverly kinvited you to her table.”

“She did,” he sighed, “You should’ve sat there too, I invited you.”

“I don’t belong there,” he looked back at the floor and grumbled, “I never have. All my life I’ve just been ‘Henry Bowers’ cousin.’ It’s like I’m not even my own person.”

“Then be your own person, make a name for yourself.” Richie grinned and sat up, “You’re Connor fucking Bowers!”

Now, Richie was expecting Connor to say it back, and it’d be one of those movie scenes where they yelled that phrase over and over. Unfortunately, reality wasn’t as sweet, it was bitter.

“Yeah, that’s the problem,” Connor stood up and left, not even glancing at Richie before slamming the door shut.

Richie just sat there, because he knew Connor wouldn’t want him to follow him. And he had to wonder, why was he so bad with people? Was it because he couldn’t even understand his own actions and behaviors? In truth, he knew the reason was probably himself. He’d always been a failure at everything, and talking to people was definitely not an exception to that. 

Whatever the truth was, he was getting sick of it.

//////////

Inviting Richie to go search for Georgie was a bit of a whim, Bill wasn’t quite sure he was completely convinced it was a great idea. Richie was a good guy for the most part, but something just didn’t feel right about him. He stared into the abyss that waited within the sewers, and it almost seemed like he was staring and something.

Whatever the case was, Bill was desperate. He hadn’t been the best big brother, but how could he? Georgie could be a handful sometimes and he really never left Bill alone. And yeah, he could understand why. He was a kid with an overactive imagination and no technology besides the TV in their living room, he needed stuff to do. Bill was just always wanting to go hang out with friends or talk to them in their group chat, Georgie could never understand that.

So, one day he made Georgie a paper boat and told him to play with it outside. Georgie always liked boats, and it was a rainy day. There were puddles everywhere, he’d surely find fun in that. And yeah, he probably did before he disappeared, but ever since he realized Georgie hadn’t returned, he felt like shit. It was his fault, right? He’d been the one to suggest Georgie to go out alone and in the rain, he was the one to cause it. Georgie wanted to play with Bill, but he’d felt too sick. He’d said no, and that was his biggest regret.

“Smells like shit,” Richie chuckled as he leaned against the wall of the tunnel.

“Usually does,” Stan spoke, he turned over and exchanged a glance with Bill. 

“That’s basically what it is, piss and shit, It’s disgusting grey water.” Eddie had said that same argument every time they went to the sewer entrance, and each time lost more and more passion. 

“Have you ever found anything here?” Richie asked, he stared into the dark abyss inside and squinted his eyes. It almost seemed as though he could see something, but Bill doubted it. 

“Just the usual litter, people can’t seem to throw trash away in the right place.” Beverly chuckled as she spoke. Bill sighed and looked around as he pointed his flashlight at the murky water. There never was anything, no sign of Georgie. And Bill knew there never would be a sign of him, there never would be that kind smile or the yellow raincoat. Georgie was gone, he knew that.

But he couldn't give up, because if Georgie was alive, he had to tell him he’d never stopped looking. He’d never lost hope.

“Would you consider this litter?” Bill looked over to see Richie holding up a sneaker, one soaked in water. Bill walked over to him and grabbed the shoe, it was too big to be Georgie’s. But it was familiar, one he’d seen a classmate wearing almost every day.

“Betty Ripsom?” Her name was written on the inside, an odd thing to see. Stan practically whispered her name, why would her shoe be in the sewers?

“She was at school earlier, I saw her.” Bev frowned, “Maybe she just lost her shoe?”

“Yeah, but she wears these every day.” Bill sighed, “Henry always makes fun of her for it, everyone knows that.”

“Let’s just hang onto it and give it to her tomorrow, if she’s not there then we turn it in to the police,” Richie suggested. It seemed like the best option, and so everyone nodded.

“Can we at least wash it first?” Eddie stared at the shoe in pure disgust. It smelled like shit, it even looked like shit. Bill wanted to agree, wanted to smother it with soap, but if Betty went missing, that show would have to be in the same condition they found it in.

////////////////

“Can I ask you something?” Richie had many questions about Derry, none he ever felt like asking anyone. But one definitely stuck out, one he knew Stanley Uris would answer. It was just the two of them, the others had to return to their homes and they never did. Richie wasn’t even sure why, Stan could’ve easily dismissed himself, but he hadn’t.

“Sure, go for it.”

“Why do people just disappear here? You all act like it’s normal and fine.”

“I don’t even know. It’s been happening for years, some kid goes missing, or a teenager, and after a week no one cares anymore.” Stan sighed and looked down, “No one ever finds them, never.”

And what Stan was implying was something Richie was beginning to fear. Going missing, disappearing forever and being forgotten. It wasn’t the idea of death, more or less it was the fact that he could just cease to exist in anyone’s minds without any warning.

“Are you ever scared you’ll be next?” 

Stan shrugged, “I don’t know, maybe? It doesn’t sound real, doesn’t even der real. Not until Georgie, and even now it feels fake. Like a sick joke.”

Richie nodded, his eyes gazing away into the distance. For a moment, his gaze landed on the sight of a red balloon floating up into the sky, it grew smaller and smaller into the distance. Sirens began to wail in the distance, the pair turned to face the road and watched as the police car sped past them down the street. They exchanged a glance in silence, because they knew what that meant.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I want to write more Ben and Mike >:(
> 
> I must speed this up Bc I miss writing them


	13. Welcome to The Loser’s Club

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Another group therapy session and this time Ms. Kersh is testing Richie’s patience. 
> 
> But then again, that group therapy was the only reason the Loser’s club ever existed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just a Little ounce of creativity on my day off, don’t mind me

The feeling of being numb was the most painful feeling for him, it was the longing for emotions and the desire to feel  _ anything.  _ Richie didn’t always feel numb, but it happened more than he liked to admit. For years he wished he knew why it happened, why some days just sucked so much more than others. 

In the end, he’d never figured it out. He supposed it never really mattered though, time went on without him, so why wait for it to give a shit about him? It was one of the reasons he’d thought of when standing atop that bridge, and it was hard to forget it.

Sitting in the therapist's office was probably the cause of his numbness at that moment, and also the dread of the group therapy immediately afterward. He’d spent days dreading it, and there he was.

“Last week the Group session didn’t end as well as I had hoped, but my goal is for you to open up today.” Ms. Kersh smiled her ugly smile, “Talk about why you’re here, everyone there is your friend and they can help you as well as how you can help them.”

Richie rolled his eyes and sighed. “What am I supposed to say? I jumped off a bridge and here I am! Fucking miserable!”

She frowned and stood up, “Language, please. Just, try your best. You don’t have to open up yet but I strongly recommend it.”

She motioned him to follow her, so he stood up and followed her to the group room where all the others sat waiting. They all looked up when he and Ms. Kersh entered the room, a confused gaze on some of their faces. He sat down in the empty seat and crossed his arms around his chest. 

“Good evening friends, today's session we will begin by going around and telling everyone our favorite number! Starting with Ben!”

Ben nodded, “Uhm, maybe seven?”

“Twelve,” Stan mumbled.

“I like the number eight,” Bev spoke with a slight chuckle.

“Five,” Mike spoke with a certain level of confidence that Richie was suddenly jealous of. Knowing himself, he’d probably think they’d judge his favorite number and hate himself for it.

“Sixty-nine,” he smirked, because fuck no, he’s not gonna say his actual favorite number. Twenty-seven wasn’t quite as fascinating of a number to most people as it was to him.

“Six,” Bill sighed, probably already tired of Richie’s antics. Maybe if Bill has any sense, he’d hit Richie over the head with a fucking baseball bat.

“Perfect!” Ms. Kersh was a bit too excited about numbers, it was starting to get very annoying. “Now, today I really want to focus on opening up! Hopefully the carnival trip helped team building so you all are acquainted more than last week. Just take some time to go around and explain what brings you here to this therapy session today, and last week!”

She turned to Ben, who seemed terrified to say the least. He turned to stare at the ground and opened his mouth to speak, no words could be formed. 

“Don’t worry Ben, we’re all friends here!”

Ms. Kersh was not helping as she probably had hoped she would, but nonetheless Ben started speaking, “Umm, I guess I just got really sad about my dad passing away a few years ago. Then we moved and the kids at school started being mean to me. My mom thought putting me in group therapy would help more than the individual kind.”

Next was Stan, who groaned when he realized Ms. Kersh was staring at him. “My parents noticed I wasn’t really happy anymore and that I was hurting myself. Here I am now, week number two.”

She nodded then turned towards Bev, who seemed to easily speak and didn’t dread it as much. “My father was an abusive dick, my mom has been dead all my life, now I live with my aunt. The police officers highly suggested getting me a therapist, so this is where it got me.”

And shit, that was a lot. Definitely a lot more than he’d ever been willing to share. 

“Well,” Mike began, “Guess it’s my turn… uh, so when I was a kid my house caught on fire, I kinda talked about it last week. Anyways, it’s all I can ever think about sometimes, and I just really want the memories to go away. I can’t do my job at the farm as well as my grandpa wishes I can, so uh, yeah.”

His heart was beating out of his chest, he could feel each and every one. The right feeling in his chest only got worse and worse as he tried to find the right words. Fuck, was he always this nervous?

“Go on, Richie. You can talk about it here, don’t worry.”

He’d only told Eddie, because Eddie made him feel safe. He didn’t even know why, and he kind of regretted it because Eddie had practically pried it out of him. Even so, he wasn’t ready to say it again.

They were all looking at him, which really didn’t help him at all. He glanced at Bev for a moment, who only offered him a small smile.

“Well, I jum- fuck.” He couldn’t say it, so he did what he always did, joke. “A dog bit me once, it was very tragic.”

“ _ Richie,”  _ oh no, she used the mom tone. Specifically the tone where you say something your mother doesn’t like and she says your name in a tone that warns you to cut it out before she makes you.

“What? It was a chihuahua! One of those really ugly ones with-“

“I understand you might not be ready to say it, but for your own recovery, you need to admit it. You need to tell yourself what you did.”

The others seemed a bit concerned, but Bev seemed to put the pieces together. She stared at the ground, then looked up at Richie and nodded.

“Fine,” he grumbled, “I jumped off a fucking bridge, happy?”

It was silent after that, Ms. Kersh only nodded and seemed a bit satisfied. And damn did he wish his mother were there to hug him as tightly and warmly as she did when he woke up in the hospital. How his father walked into the room with a cup of coffee and immediately rushed in to join the hug.

“Bill?” And oh it’s hurt to see Ms. Kersh Just moved on like what he’d admitted was nothing. 

Bill was silent for a moment before sighing deeply, “G-Georgie, my little brother, he w-went missing in October and we h-haven’t had any news about h-him being alive. My parents s-stopped caring about anything, my m-mom quit her job. My dad w-works overtime e-every week. We’ve b-become a mess.”

Ms. Kersh nodded, “Now, I’m going to leave the room and let each of you talk amongst yourselves. Rant about your problems, talk about what has happened to you, just go ahead and enjoy some sharing time without me.” She stood up and left the room, leaving them all in silence.

Richie almost debated sneaking out, leaving that shot-hole to go get high, because for the first time in a while, feeling numb sounded amazing to him.

“I wonder if she’s even a licensed therapist, she kinda sucks at her job,” and he should’ve expected it to be Bev to break the silence, her and her charisma.

“Yeah,” Stan nodded, “Definitely.”

“Good Job on saying it though,” Bev looked around, “All our Traumas Are valid and that witch shouldn’t have made us go around and tell everyone.” She glanced at Richie, who just stared at her. Eddie probably gave the best hugs, he’d have to test that theory someday.

Richie stood up and groaned, “This is a load of shit, let’s get the hell out of here before she decides to come back.”

Bev stood up and pushed her chair back a bit, “Where are you going?”

“Anywhere but here, you’re all welcome to join me,” he stared at the door for a moment, Ms. Kersh was talking with the receptionist, so he’d need to find a different exit. His eyes darted towards the windows, eventually landing on the lock. He ran over there and opened the windows, but to his dismay, a screen stood in his way.

“Richie,” Stan caught his attention, staring at Richie with a pocket knife in his hands. “Use this.”

“Why the hell do you carry a pocket knife to a therapy appointment??” Richie didn’t want to know if it had anything to do with why Stan was there in the first place, because he really couldn't imagine seeing Stan carving into himself with that old knife.

“I used to be in Boy Scouts, they always made us carry one. Kinda kept that habit.”

Richie raised his brows for a moment before turning back to the window and carving out the screen. The window was big enough for all of them to climb out, so he’d hoped they’d all follow along. 

And, to his surprise, they all did. Each one hopping out of the window and onto the concrete sidewalk outside. Richie started laughing as he watched Bill struggle to get down, but Mike and Stan ended up helping him down.

“We should go to the quarry!” Bev seemed almost too thrilled at her own idea, practically bouncing in her boots. “I could use a swim.”

Richie furrowed his brows, “The quarry?”

“You remember the barrens? Well, the water there leads to this little lake that has a cliff above it. We like to jump down into the water there.” Stan sighed, “It’s not all that exciting, Bev just likes the thrill of jumping down.”

“Sounds fun, I’m in!” Ben grinned, he kept his eyes on Bev for a little too long. Richie seemed to be the only one to notice Ben’s admiration for Bev, and he surely wouldn’t say anything about it.

“How’re we gonna get there?” Mike asked, “It’s across town and all I have is my bike.”

“I have a truck,” Richie smirked, “some of you get to ride in the bed.” He grabbed his keys from his pocket and shook them in the air, the others nodded in agreement as Bev called dibs on sitting in the bed. 

In the end, only Richie and Stan were inside the truck. Bev had persuaded the others to take the more thrilling option. Richie didn’t mind though, Stan was nice company.

And for the first few minutes, the only noise was the radio playing the newest songs that made Richie cringe. His own music taste was very different from what most people seemed to enjoy, or maybe radio stations had shitty music taste compared to the rest of the world.

Stan was the one to break the silence first, “Did you really jump off a bridge?”

Richie shrugged, “Didn’t make it far, I jumped and someone caught me before I could fall.”

Stan frowned, “What happened afterward?”

“I woke up in a hospital after they sedated me, I guess I was a bit too emotional and a bit violent when the ambulance came to get me away from the bridge. I was sent to a mental hospital and ended up being there for almost a month. Then went back to school and-“ he sighed, “After a few weeks my family moved us here.” He then turned and looked at Stan, “Trust me, Stan, don’t do it. Nothing good has come from it.”

Stan looked down and leaned back against his seat, “I don’t think I could if I tried, but some days I just think about it a lot. I think that maybe it’d be easier if I were gone.”

Richie focused his eyes back on the road, occasionally looking back to see the others basking in the wind, laughing their eyes out. “Sometimes I think the same thing, but sometimes I think that maybe there’s something I’ll be missing out on, something I don't wanna miss.”

“And what’s that?”

“Life,” Richie smiled gently, “People.” And for some reason, the face he imagined when saying that was the face of Eddie Kaspbrak, the boy he’d slowly become very fond of.

Stan nodded and looked out the window, he watched as each tree passed, each road sign. He counted each one, hoping for the moment they made their way to the quarry. Richie Tozier was an interesting guy, someone who seemed so dull and annoying, but really was just like him. It annoyed Stan to a mild degree that the pair shared the same thoughts on their lives, but he knew Richie was someone to keep around, no matter how many times he’d have to tell him to shut up.

Richie suddenly stopped the truck, the others confused until they saw why. Eddie was walking along the road, all alone. Richie rolled down his window and grinned, “Won’t you join the circus, Eds?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and opened the back door of the truck and sat in the middle seat. He buckled his seatbelt as Richie continued driving.

“Betty Ripsom was just reported missing,” Eddie sighed, “I was on my way to bring the shoe to the police station.”

“Quarry now, police later,” Richie mumbled as he looked back at Eddie, “It’s time to jump off a cliff.”

“Can you Not phrase it like that Richie-“

  
“No can do, Mr. Kaspbrak. As your step-father, it is my duty to ensure your safety!” He spoke in one of his voices, this one being more similar to a Radio host back in the mid-to-late 1900s. 

“What does that have to do with anything!”

  
Richie slammed on the brakes and grinned, the Truck stopping in an instant as he watched everyone hold onto the nearest thing to them. Richie put his truck in park and stepped out, watching as Bev hopped down from the bed and ran towards the cliff.

The others soon followed after her, each one staring at the bottom.   
  


“So, who first?” Bill asked, a frown on his face.   
  


Usually, Richie would (quite literally) jump at the chance for a quick thrill, but he wasn’t as thrilled to jump off anything anymore.

Bev looked at him warily for a moment, “If anybody doesn’t want to jump, there’s a stairway that leads down.” And for some reason that felt like a challenge, jump or you’re a wuss.

He smirked, walking back a bit to give himself some distance, then ran and jumped down. It was a bit scary to him, the wind on his skin. Would this be how he’d have felt if that man hadn’t caught him from falling? It was a peaceful feeling, though he was terrified to hit the water. He couldn’t quite trust he’d be alive afterwards, or maybe he’d break some bones. Either way, he couldn’t help but be worried.

And only a moment later, he reached the cold, green water. He rose to the surface as quickly as he could to see the others jumping down. He swam further back to get out of the way, smiling as they landed with huge splashes.

And it felt nice, being a part of something. Being a teenager and doing stupid shit all the time. And he’d never have guessed these would be the friends he’d have made, they all were the stereotypical school losers. But yet, they got along after only a few interactions.  
  


“WELCOME TO THE LOSER’S CLUB, ASSHOLES!” He yelled out, splashing the others.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hi hi, howdy.
> 
> Just to be clear: Ms. Kersh is supposed to be a terrible therapist, so please don’t take her attempts at helping them seriously. Most of you have probably realized she is Ms. Kersh from IT chapter 2, so yeah. Some not great things will happen at one point.
> 
> Also!!! Finally the losers are formed! Stan and Richie’s friendship is formed! Richie is starting to get a small little crush on Eddie! Things! Are! Happening!


	14. Janitor Gray

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Richie thinks, and sometimes he thinks too much.

The worst part about being a Trashmouth was that no one ever believed anything he’d ever said. As a kid he’d been ignored when he actually had problems, shoved away and told that his jokes weren’t funny. He supposed he didn’t have that problem anymore, he stopped his obnoxious behavior in hopes of the people at his old school to begin treating him like an actual human being. It didn’t work, he just lost a part of himself and sunk into a deep depression.

Even so, he still sometimes found himself trying to act like a trashmouth, especially with Stanley Uris. The kid was too easy to annoy, it was almost surprising. He’d spent days thinking of ways to make Stan laugh or at least make him seem less miserable. Richie wasn’t quite sure being a trashmouth would help, but he wanted to give it a shot. The only problem was that he didn’t know if he could do it anymore, just say anything and not even care about how people thought of him. It was something that would take time, and he had plenty of that.

But he hoped that people would still care about his problems, that his parents wouldn’t think he suddenly went back to normal. He wasn’t ever ‘normal,’ he just knew how to act. It wasn’t anything out of the ordinary for him, he’d always been that way. 

The only problem he had was Connor. He didn’t want to start being annoying around Connor, who cared so much about his reputation enough. Richie didn’t want to ruin that. So, he could act normal around Connor, or he could just avoid him.

Obviously, Richie wasn’t gonna abandon Connor. He wasn’t gonna act weird around the guy, because he knew Connor would freak out and avoid him again. Richie didn’t like that, he didn’t like when anyone avoided him. Richie didn’t like a lot of things in life, but he did like his friends. So he’d do anything for them.

So, he found himself walking down Connor’s street. He had longed for a walk, he never used to. But he’d been taking a lot of walks lately, he needed moments to breathe and think. It was the only coping mechanism he’d ever gotten to work for him, besides some… other ones that he would rather not think about.

Connor lived in a white house that had tan bricks along the bottom, each house looked almost similar. Some were different colors and many held different plants and trees, but the shapes of the house all looked identical. Connor’s house had only purple flowers in the flower bed, all slowly withering and dying as the colder months came around. The mailbox was a navy blue, standing out against the blandness of the rest of the house. 

But what stood out more was the sign stuck in the grass by the sidewalk. One that held the words “FOR SALE” in bright red letters. Richie scrunched up his nose, staring at that sign as if it’d disappear at any moment. News flash: it didn’t.

After a moment of staring, he heard the front door open and the familiar voice speak, “Richie?”

Richie looked up at Connor, a frown clear on his face. Connor seemed a bit worried, eyebrows furrowed and eyes narrowed slightly. He crossed his arms against the cold and walked down the porch steps.

“I tried to tell you, I just-“ he froze for a moment, hugging his arms against his chest even tighter, “I couldn’t, I didn’t know how.”

“Well, a simple ‘Hey Richie, I’m moving soon!’ Would’ve probably done the trick,” normally he’d chuckle after saying something like that, because a chuckle would make it clear he was being sarcastic, but he couldn’t shove the shock away. He was dumbfounded, truly astonished. Connor was nice, he was the first friend Richie made in Derry. He’d wanted to help the kid out with making friends too, and now he couldn’t. The only comforting thing was that the sign didn’t have a ‘sold’ sticker yet.

“Sorry I guess,” was all Connor said before he walked back into his house, shutting the door in Richie’s face.

And Richie never cried, it was never really his style. But at that moment he found himself wiping them off his cheeks, and he knew things were changing again.

————

When Richie was stuck in a mental hospital, he was forced to write in a journal. And while he made jokes about how fruity it was, he complied. He knew he needed to follow what he was told if he wanted to go home. So he wrote in that damn journal every single night in hopes that it’d do something to convince the doctors that he was fine. As it turned out, he enjoyed it.

After being released, he still kept writing in his journal. Some entries were only a paragraph while some took pages and pages. He’d written about his emotions, everything he was hiding. Because he needed to let it all out somewhere, he knew he’d never speak about it to people. 

Recent nights took up many pages of his journal, ranting about Ms Kersh and Eddie and Stan and Connor and his parents. Everything was weird at the moment for him, and his mind always raced with thoughts that he would never dare speak. He’d learned his lesson, never tell anyone about self-destructive thoughts or else they’ll shove you in the looney bin.

But in all truth, no one there was crazy. Mainly depressed teens who messed up and got shoved away. Schizophrenics who couldn’t cope with their disorder, or even just people that thought being depressed for one day was so terrible and they needed to be monitored. No seriously, some girl convinced a doctor to put her in a psych ward because she was depressed after her boyfriend broke up with her. He was very confused, to say the least. Even so, he never tried to see if there was another reason or if what she was saying was the truth. 

He’d learned a lot from the mental hospital though, especially about the people. How complex people were and how glad he was that he never fully opened up to anyone. His parents never got to know what drove him to jump off a bridge, his doctor just gave up because Richie knew how to annoy people.

Maybe that’s why he liked writing in a journal, because the only person who would ever really listen would be himself. He could deal with his own bullshit and sort it out, he could never trust anyone else with that. His problems were  _ his,  _ not anyone else’s. 

  
  


He sighed as he leaned against the wall of his room. His mind always raced at night, it was almost midnight and he stayed awake and staring at his latest journal page. His emotions always seemed more intense at night, every slight problem would seem life-changing when the moon was out. By morning it’d feel like nothing.

He flipped to the first page of his journal, his second day at the mental hospital. The nurse had handed it to him and told him to write down anything he was feeling, and while making fun of it, he did it. 

  
  
  
  


_ ‘ I am not fucking saying ‘dear diary’ like some ten year old girl, okay? If I’m supposed to write this bullshit then I’m doing it my way. _

_ I don’t really know what to tell ya, shit happened and here I am. I fell off a bridge, simple as that. Was it on purpose? Maybe, maybe not. Why should I tell you, Mr Doctor? I can’t even remember your name right now, and these meds are making me too tired to give you a nickname, so fuck it! _

_ I know you only make us write these so you can read them and discover our thoughts, and I’m not buying into it. No sir, Richie Tozier will not fucking write you a diary about what I did. Not happening. You must think you’re so clever! So smart! But I know what you’re doing dude, not cool. _

_ So if you think for one second that I’m gonna just sit here and explain my feelings and why I’m depressed, then you got a thing or two to learn. ‘ _

  
  


He almost laughed as he read it over, he wanted to seem funny. In reality, he was terrified and on several prescribed drugs he never got to know the name of. He had been paranoid and untrusting and still denying what he’d done.

He sighed and turned to his blank page for that day, tapping his pencil against the side of the notebook. What was he even supposed to say? Connor was moving away and didn’t want to talk to him? Or how about the fact that he stopped taking his meds the day before? His mind was a jumbled mess, to say the least.

In truth, he was spiraling. He knew it was happening, and he didn’t find himself caring. Sure, it wasn’t something ideal for him, but he didn’t care. Nothing about his life was all that exciting, he needed some sort of emotion rather than the void of nothingness that his meds put him in.

Before he knew it, he was at ‘the kissing bridge.’ He barely remembered his walk to get there, he just remembered putting on shoes and sneaking out his window. The bridge was not high up, it was close to the water below. If he actually wanted to attempt suicide again, he’d have better luck at the quarry. But for some odd reason, going to a bridge was something he needed to do. He didn’t even know why, it was just this feeling in his mind, this magnet pulling him there.

He stood against the railing, the cold breeze in his face. He remembered the moment perfectly, staring out at the water, the distance down, how long he’d fall before it’d be over. He remembered climbing up over the railing and standing there for a moment before stepping into the air and dropping down. He remembered the car that honked just a moment before, the yell of a man he didn’t even remember the face of. He remembered his hood being caught and him dangling off the edge, the man’s grip too tight to release from. He couldn’t just simply take off his hoodie either, so he’d realized he was fucked.

He’d been pulled up by some other passing bystanders, the doctor said he’d been in a daze and didn’t speak at all. He’d started freaking out when the ambulance came, they had to sedate him. All he remembered thinking was that he wished he’d chosen a different method. And after all the time that passed, he still wasn’t sure if he was glad he was caught.

“Bit late for such a small boy to be out, the sewer clowns might snatch ya up!” Richie looked over, a tall man was walking by with his hands shoved in his pockets. He looked familiar, and it took a moment to even realize who he was seeing.

“Mr. Gray?”

The janitor raised a brow and cackled as he stopped walking, “m’I suppose’ to know ya?” His voice was high and squeaky, almost like nails on a chalkboard. Richie could feel the goosebumps that spread across his neck. “Better go home before your face is next on the walls.”

Richie frowned as the man walked past him, a grotesque stench surrounding him. Like he’d bathed in rotten meat, Richie almost thought he’d puke. He didn’t smell that bad at school, not that he could remember anyways. 

Mr Gray was a strange man, he’d noticed it before. He was bald, pale, and very ominous. His eyes were a pale hazel color, almost yellow if hit by the sunlight. He’d always wear the same clothes each day, a dress shirt and dress pants with boots on. And for a teacher, that would make sense, but he was a janitor. He didn’t have to dress up at all. But the weirdest thing about him was that Mr. Gray liked humming nursery rhymes. His favorite one seemed to be ‘Ring-Around-the-Rosie.’

Richie turned to look at the man once more, but he noticed a car pull up nearby. He opened the passengers side and hopped in, the car made a U-turn and Richie stared at the driver. Ms. Kersh.

Suddenly, he felt as though he were about to throw up. He couldn’t explain the feeling inside him after that, but he knew something was wrong. Not with himself, but with Ms. Kersh and Mr. Gray. 

He walked home after that, the sick feeling not going away. Maybe it never would until he figured out what was happening, or maybe he’d wake up and feel great.

But he couldn’t sleep that night, he’d tried but to no use. Tossing and turning until he was left staring at the dark ceiling. He ended up pulling out his journal, writing and writing until there were no more thoughts left in his head. Until the world felt numb.

He looked over at the clock, it was three in the morning.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn’t even realize how long it’s been since I posted a chapter?? Like how has it almost been a month?  
> Also Connor :,( I love that boy he’s so sweet and nice In this story and he doesn’t deserve anything bad to ever happen to him
> 
> Anyways, I’m going back to In-person schooling on Tuesday and I’m not excited at all. Online has been really stressful though, so maybe this is a good thing for me.


	15. Empty Parks and Nightmares

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> On a Saturday morning with nothing to do, Richie seeks entertainment at the Park. Turns out that he wasn’t the only one with that idea.
> 
> Meanwhile, Beverly finds herself in a strange and cryptic dream.

The Derry playground was always empty, even on the sunniest of days. It was something strange to Richie, such a fun place to be void of any human life. He’d loved playgrounds as a child, the swings always being his favorite. He never minded when the girls in his class wanted him to play ‘Banana boat’ or tag. He never thought it was too girly or too boring. Maybe that’s why the boys around him always picked on him, called him a fairy. He didn’t mind it at the time, his young mind not knowing the true meaning behind the words. But he later realized what he’d been called all those years, it was something that never sat right with him. 

He sat upon the railing of the playground bridge that led to the main part, the bridge was bouncy and rusted in areas. It was a Saturday morning, no school to attend and no therapy to skip. His day was free, he could do whatever he wished to do. But his mind drew a blank when he tried thinking of how to spend it, a void in his mind as if he never spent Saturdays doing anything. In truth, he was a very boring person when it came down to it. Sure, the mental illness wasn’t quite boring, but it prevented him from ever having any fun. For the past month, he’d sat in his room and thought about everything in his life, his decisions. He used to spend weekends at his job, he’d worked at a pizza place. He didn’t know what places in Derry that were hiring teenagers. He honestly didn’t think getting a job would be beneficial for him, though his parents couldn’t pay his truck insurance forever, and those gas prices weren’t getting any cheaper.

“Lonely here, isn’t it?” Richie looked over and almost smiled when his eyes met those of Eddie Kaspbrak. 

Richie shrugged as he hopped down off the play bridge and onto the wood chips on the ground below. Eddie was walking towards him from the sidewalk.

“What brings you here?” Richie asked in a playful tone, he stopped walking as he arrived in front of the shorter boy. Eddie wore his usual Fanny pack, a peachy pink color that stood out against the dull world around them. Richie always wondered what goodies he carried in the small bag, but the day he found out he was only filled with disappointment. An inhaler and some pill bottles. Not exactly what Richie was hoping for, though he wasn’t sure what he was hoping for. 

“Bill is pestering the police again, Bev is going to the movies with her aunt, Stan has some Jewish thing, and I have nothing to do. Thought going to the park would be better than nothing.” 

Richie nodded and smiled at Eddie. He liked being around the smaller boy, something about him felt warm, he gave the same feeling that pancakes on a Saturday summer morning gave Richie as a kid. Nostalgic almost, but not quite. 

“You can always hang out with me, I’m fun sometimes!” 

Eddie smiled a little, eyes gazing over at the fall leaves that fell onto the ground. “Thanksgiving is next week, feels weird.”

Richie nodded, “Is your mom gonna celebrate it?”

Eddie shrugged, fiddling with the zipper of his Fanny pack. “Mom doesn’t like me eating that much food, too many carbs. My dad isn’t around and my mom's family isn’t really the kind of family to enjoy Thanksgiving. We sometimes go to my aunt's house but we aren’t this year. Mom never said why.”

“What if we all spend it together? Like not the dinner part, because it’s a family holiday and my parents would be mad if I skipped out on it.” Richie grinned, “Plus, your mom doesn’t want you to find out about what she and I do at night-“

“Oh beep beep, Rich.”

Richie frowned, “What?”

“Stan told me that’s your shut-up button.”

Then it made sense, Stan was trying to find his off-switch that one day and discovered it was that phrase. Richie didn’t want to make either of the two boys feel bad for using it, and he had to admit it was better than telling him to shut up.

“Little bitch, sharing the secret now, eh?” Richie chuckled, though his movements were a bit stiff as his mind remembered the red car from that night. “Figures as much. Oh well.”

Eddie stared at him in silence for a moment, he looked like he wanted to say something but didn’t think it was a good idea. Richie pondered if he should speak another terrible joke, but his mind drew a blank when trying to think of one.

His watch made a ticking sound, almost like a beep. An alarm of sorts, probably. Eddie turned it off and opened his Fanny pack, taking an orange pill bottle out and retrieving one pill from the container. He dry-swallowed it and closed the Fanny pack. 

“An odd time for meds,” Richie pointed out, but Eddie only shrugged.

“I take a bunch, I- Uh, I don’t think they do anything…” he paused for a moment, “But they make my mom think I’m healthy so… yeah.”

“So… fake pills?”

“Greta said they were Placebos.” Eddie chuckled, “It’s funny, Placebos are typically to make the person taking them feel better. I’m taking them for my mom to feel better.”

Richie wasn’t sure if he should chuckle or not, “Are they all placebos?”

Eddie shrugged, “I’m not sure. I have one prescription that’s for anxiety, but that’s pretty much the only one I know is real.”

“Why do you take them then?”

Eddie shrugged and brought his knees up to hug them. “I don’t wanna worry her, ya know? I’m all she has and she wants to make sure nothing ever happens to me again. After my dad passed- she thinks she can prevent that for me. Cancer runs in the family though, I’d be lucky not to get it.”

Richie nodded, staring at him. Eddie had nice eyelashes, he hadn’t noticed that before. They weren’t short, but not too long either. The bottom lashes stood out too, they looked nice. Eddie looked nice. 

“Nothing really runs in my family, maybe the habit of smoking, but nothing medical.”

“Why do you smoke?” Eddie asked softly, his expression showed no clue as to what he was thinking. Just pure curiosity, one that made Richie curious as well.

“I dunno,” he mumbled, “I just wanted to and now it’s a thing. It calms my nerves though, maybe that’s why I don’t stop.”

He’d pondered the question for many years, though he was never truthful with himself over it. He wasn’t quite sure if he knew what that truth was. He’d seen his father smoke when he was a kid, seen how much he relied on the small stick. He’d grown curious, and then came an opportunity and he took it. It only went downhill from there.

“I once asked Bev the same thing, she said it was because she wanted to feel calm,” Eddie sighed, “She wanted to forget how scared of her father she was, how she needed something to control in her life. Smoking was that control for her, and now she’s realizing she doesn’t need it anymore.”

Richie wasn’t sure of how to respond, whether Eddie would continue or not. He didn’t have to wait long to find out.

“So I wondered if that was your reason. I don’t know what happened to you after what happened at that bridge, but I wondered if it related. I heard the others found out, they were talking about it when they thought I wasn’t listening.” Eddie sighed for a moment and looked over,” Anyways, I hope you find your control.”

That was something that stuck with Richie, a phrase he knew he couldn’t forget. Did he have control? Did he even need it?

//////

Her hands grazed the side of a wall, the paint was peeling off and turning a rusty shade of brown. To her left was a door, one tall and wooden. It was chipping, chunks missing in some areas. The doorknob was golden in color and old-fashioned, a keyhole staring back at her as she attempted to open the door. The knob didn’t even turn, locked in its place as she stood helpless. She turned around as the footsteps grew closer, her heart pounding as she hoped the door would magically open. 

Beverly knew she was dreaming, she knew what she was seeing wasn’t real. It didn’t make it feel less real though, and it made no sense to her. She didn’t dream often, or she just never remembered her dreams. The ones she did remember were full of strange events that made no sense. Nothing scary or disturbing, she hadn’t had nightmares since when she lived with her father. But even so, she felt terrified. Was this a lucid dream? She felt so awake, but she couldn’t control anything. She’d heard that lucid dreams give the dreamer full control. They could do anything, but she couldn’t even open a damn doorknob.

“Beverly!” It wasn’t a whisper, but a voice had spoken from behind the door. It was quiet, almost muffled. She stared down at the key that hung around her neck from a random necklace chain she’d bought. She took the key and tried fitting it into the doorknob, though she was certain it wouldn’t work. That was the key to her house, and wherever she was wasn’t her house.

To her surprise though, the key fit, and she was able to turn the knob. The door opened with a creak, one that screeched at each movement. The room was dark, with no light switch by the door to illuminate the void. Instead, her fingers were met with a dusty wall, one that seemed to be untouched for years. She grabbed her phone from her back pocket and turned on the flashlight, she looked around but saw no one. She sighed as she stepped forward, the floorboards made a similar noise to what sound had emitted from the door. She continued walking, noticing several more doorways. The footsteps had stopped when she’d opened the door, that fact didn’t sit well with her. 

“BEVERLY!” The voice screamed this time, almost as if they were in pain. She looked around her, facing the flashlight wherever she could, even pointing towards the ceiling. She jumped as the lights turned on by themselves, they were warm-toned lights that were dull and awaiting to be changed before they fully died. She frowned, furrowing her brows as she tried to see who was in there. 

“Hello?” She finally called out, realizing that she could talk. She turned around once more, facing the same area she’d looked at many times already. No one had been there before, but now Stanley Uris sat on the broken couch with a dull and lifeless look on his face. He was paler than usual, his light curls now drenched in water and something brown or red. Maybe blood, but she wasn’t sure yet. He wore his usual clothes, a blue polo tucked into khaki shorts. His clothes were also soaked in water, but what really frightened her were his wrists. Two long vertical cuts taking over his forearms and leaking blood. He sat there and stared at her with his cold, dead eyes.

“Stan?” She managed to speak out of her shock. Or maybe he wasn’t Stan, though he looked identical to her friend.

“It’s coming, Beverly.” It wasn’t his voice, it was similar but it wasn’t the same. The words were quiet and almost inaudible. She bit at her lips as to not speak, as to not shutter out the painful scream she so dearly felt like releasing. That wasn’t Stan, Stan wasn’t dead. It didn’t matter if it was a dream, it didn’t feel like one. 

She backed up, but her body was stopped by another. She was hesitant to turn around, she didn’t want to see another one of her friends in an undead form, but she couldn’t wake herself up and she knew she had no choice. Her curiosity always got the better of her.

“You need to go before it’s back,” It was Eddie this time. Black liquid oozed from his mouth as he spoke, dripping down onto his pink polo and matching Fanny pack. The liquid fell onto the floor with a dripping sound that she couldn’t ignore. The sound slowly driving her crazy, one that only made her feel more out of control.

“What is it?” She was more comfortable with speaking to Eddie, who still looked a little more alive. Albeit the black liquid wasn’t quite normal either. But Eddie was always so small and vulnerable, even in this state she couldn’t help but want to hug him. She wouldn’t though, she knew better.

Footsteps approached again, the two boys turned their heads towards the open doorway and started breathing heavily. Beverly was unsure of if it’d be better to wait for whatever was approaching to show itself, or to go and see for herself. She had no choice but to choose the former, her body stood frozen in place as she tried to ignore her rapid heartbeat.

“You need to wake up,” It was Richie this time, tall and pale. He didn’t look dead at all, he looked the same. His glasses were missing but that was the only difference. “Beverly!”

He’d been the one calling her name earlier, she’d realized. She frowned as she reached out and touched him, curious of how real he was in this dream. Her hand landed atop his shoulders, he ignored them. “Where are we?”

“Did you forget?” Richie widened his eyes as the footsteps crept closer, “Now is not the time to forget, Beverly!” He almost sounded desperate, as if time was running out.

“This is just a dream,” she mumbled to herself, eyes darting towards each of her friends. “This isn’t real!”

The lights went out, the air grew cold and felt almost as if a window had opened in the midst of a winter storm. She shut her eyes, hoping to wake herself up. She pinched her arms over and over, but to no avail. 

And then everything stopped, the lights turned back on, her closed eyes taking notice of the vague light from behind her eyelids. The draft grew warm, her body no longer shivering at each movement. The three boys no longer stood in the room, no trace of them was left. Not even a hint of Stan’s blood or Eddie’s black ooze.

“Bev?” She looked over, Ben Hanscom stood in the doorway. She didn’t know much about the pudgy boy in her therapy group, but she thought he was sweet. She’d talked to him in the bed of Richie’s truck when they were driving to the quarry. “I found the key.”

She furrowed her brows and instinctively grabbed the key hanging from around her neck, staring at him with uncertainty. “Key?”

“If we find the others, we can get out of here!” He was whispering as if scared of someone hearing. Was that Someone the ‘it’ the others had been speaking of? 

“What happens if we don’t?” She didn’t even realize that was her speaking until she realized that she and Ben were the only people in the room. She hadn’t been thinking about that, her questions were more about where she was and why. 

Ben frowned and clutched the key tightly, he stared at something behind her. She turned around and gaped at the yellow raincoat that was set atop the couch. It hadn’t been there before when Stan was sitting there.

“Are we missing?”

He nodded, almost seeming confused. Maybe she was dreaming of some alternate reality where she and Ben were friends and trapped in some spooky house with dead Stan and Eddie and an alive Richie.

“When?”

“Umm, the day after Thanksgiving.” He widened his eyes as the footsteps continued to draw closer and closer, Beverly held in a breath as she turned towards the doorway. Ben seemed to know what was there, grabbing her arm and dragging her towards another doorway. They were running now, not caring about being heard. Whatever was causing the footsteps had already started following and chasing after them. Bev tried to look back and see what it was, but Ben yanked her closer to him.

“DON’T LOOK AT IT!”

But she couldn’t stop herself, even if every instinct within her was saying to listen to Ben. She turned around to see, but her eyes only shot open.

She sat up in her bed, panting as she adjusted to the sunlight peeking through her curtains. She looked down at her shirt, it was drenched in sweat. She slowed her breathing and stood up, grabbing a change of clothes before the feeling of disgust took over. She needed a shower. And in that shower, she’d contemplate what she’d seen in that dream, or what she didn’t see. She could ponder all day of what that dream meant, but she was already trying to convince herself that what she’d witnessed was all just a product of her fear from the missing children.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve been trying to focus on only writing in Richie’s POV, but sometimes I feel like that’s too limiting for some of the scenes I want to create. This won’t be the end of the POV switches, you’ll be seeing some neglected losers soon enough as well. 
> 
> Also, I had a lot of fun writing this chapter. I was trying to bring in the horror/thriller aspects of this story into being. I’m not sure if I did well but it was fun haha.
> 
> Anyways, I hope you all have a great day and I’ll see ya next chapter :)


	16. Panic

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beverly’s nightmare shows it’s relevancy a bit too quickly for anyone’s liking.

The Hanlon farm has been running for generations. It wasn’t originally staffed by the kind Hanlons, not until after slavery was abolished and the original owners passed away without anyone to inherit it. Even so, the Hanlons had changed the history of the farm. They supplied most of the nearby butchers and small markets, they even sold extra veggies for cheap on weekends. 

Mike was content with his life on the farm, but he still wondered if there was more out there for him. More life to enjoy, more things to see. He surely wanted to figure it all out, and with time he knew the answers would be found. He’d always liked the idea of moving to Florida, nice and hot. Full of opportunities and futures. He didn’t have a plan, not that he really needed one. He wasn’t out of high school yet, he had time to figure it out. 

He wished he wasn’t an only child though, because that’d make his decision so much easier. If he doesn’t continue the family farm, then who would keep it running? His grandfather surely couldn’t, neither could his uncle. Sure, he had a few cousins, but none that wanted anything to do with the farm work. That’s why his family always loved him, the farm boy. When he was younger, he couldn’t kill the animals. Couldn’t even fathom it, but after a while, he could. It was like one day he stopped caring. That was the day his grandfather bought him his very own truck. It made it easier to get around than with a bike, but the problem was that he lacked the license needed to drive it. Sometimes he’d drive anyways, knowing the cops in town were too busy searching for another missing kid. But sometimes he knew better, he knew that Derry was an old and small-minded town. He needed to be cautious before he got himself in any trouble. 

He was riding his bike, an old and rusted thing that was brand new only fifty years ago. It had been his grandfather's old bike, then his father’s, now his. It was alright for the task he needed to complete, not too special. He had some raw beef packaged and stacked in the basket, ready to be dropped off at the market. It was a fifteen-minute bike ride, not too short of a time but not too long. The town was small, after all.

He’d always cross through the park, it was an easy shortcut to get to the market. It was also nice to see if he could spot anyone he knew, though usually, he didn’t. He didn’t know many folks in town, just the small bunch from group therapy, plus Bowers and his goons. Mike hated Bowers, but he’d refrain from saying it to the guy's face. Mike didn’t have a death wish.

Mike took a turn down the pathway to the park, very few kids decided to spend their day there. The only signs of life were the birds, grouping together on a tree branch and staring down at the ground below them. 

“Mike?” He looked over, Ben Hanscom seemed to be another sign of life. He was standing by the large Paul Bunyan statue, a backpack slung against his back. 

Mike slowed down his bike and turned towards the familiar face, a gentle smile filled his expression. “What’s up Ben?”

Ben shrugged, “I was hoping to find some of the others around, but I don’t know where they live…” he sighed and gripped the straps of his bag tighter, “I’m feeling kinda lonely.”

Mike had other things to do at the barn, things that his grandfather said were top priority. “If you want, you can join me in dropping this off, then we can hang out for a bit.”

Ben nodded immediately as if it were his plan all along. Mike didn’t care if that were the case, he liked hanging out with people. Liked making friends. He spent so much time working that he barely had any time to talk to people his age. Group therapy was the most he’d done in a long while.

“Have you seen anyone lately?” Ben asked, Mike was walking his bike so he could walk with Ben. 

Mike shrugged, “I’ve seen Richie a few times, and also Bill. But Bill likes to search around town for his brother, and Richie takes drives a lot from what I’ve seen.”

Ben nodded, adjusting his bag. “I’ve seen Beverly, at the pharmacy, Eddie too. That’s about it.”

“Speak of the devil-“ Mike began, noticing the redhead running towards them in the distance. 

“Mike! Ben!” She panted, slowing down in front of them. Stan followed behind her at a less rushed pace. “Have you-“ she gasped for breath, “-Have you guys seemed Richie or Eddie today??”

They both shook their heads, Mike was first to ask the question, “No, why?”

Beverly looked at Stan and frowned. Stan sighed, “I was supposed to meet up with Eddie at noon. He never showed, Bev was going to go try and hang out with Richie but she hasn’t been able to reach him. Eddie isn’t answering his phone.”

“What about Bill?” Ben asked, his eyes staying on Beverly.

“He’s looking for Richie’s house.” Beverly sighed, “We think his truck might still be at his house. Even if he’s there and Eddie isn’t, Eddie is missing and Richie might know of where he was last at.”

/////////

Bill knew a lot about Richie’s truck than he cared to admit. He knew about the dent at the back, the scratches along the sides. He knew the first three digits of Richie’s license plate. And how could he forget about the distinct smell of nicotine that surrounded the truck?

So of course he was confident he’d find it. It would’ve helped if Richie had a cell phone to call, but alas, the boy was traumatized by them. Bill wasn’t one to judge though, he couldn’t bear the sight of yellow raincoats anymore. 

Bill knew which area Richie lived in, he’d seen Richie drive down a street there after school once. He’d never seen the house, but he knew he’d find it soon enough. He had his phone out and ready to make a call to Stan, who seemed to be the only one with a rational mind. 

It had been Bill who started freaking out at first, talking about the possibility that Eddie was kidnapped like Georgie was. That only started to freak Bev out, Stan doubted Bill’s claim. But he knew it was true, they all did. Eddie was the kind of person who always had their phone charged to above 50% at all times. It was unlike him to not answer texts of calls either, even if he still talked of how reliant they were on technology and started setting an example of how Richie didn’t use a modern phone and he was doing just fine.

Bill sighed and looked back and forth between each house, eyes searching for a truck of any kind. He was almost going to give up, but then he saw it. Richie’s truck was parked in front of a nice house, two stories and freshly trimmed grass. Bill immediately sent the address over to Stan, then he looked at Richie’s truck. The inside seemed the same as it did when he last saw it, maybe a bit messier. He turned towards the house, another car parked in the driveway. One of his parents, probably. He was tempted to knock on the door, but he wanted to wait for the others.

Bill then looked up, the window on the top right was open. Black curtains blowing against the breeze, Bill knew it had to be Richie’s. He didn’t know why, just a feeling in his mind. The window on the left side was plainer, with blinds instead of curtains and an untouched look to it. He wasn’t sure if Richie had any siblings, so maybe it was the guest bedroom.

“Got your text.” Bill jumped as he looked over at Stan, groaning at his friend as he composed himself.

“W-w-w-what the f-fuck!” Bill jabbed Stan in the side, causing a low grunt from his friend. Behind him stood Beverly, Ben, and Mike. “Have any of you seen them?”

Mike shook his head, “This is Richie’s house?”

Bill turned back towards the door and nodded, “We s-should probably knock.” He couldn’t bring himself to do so, something about the house seemed off. 

Beverly was the one who ended up knocking, she was always determined. He liked that about her, she wasn’t scared of anything.

It took only a moment for the door to open, a tall woman with curly brown hair spoke immediately as the door crept open.

“Did you lose your key again? Richie-“ she then noticed the distinct lack of her son and frowned. “Can I help you? Richie isn’t home.”

“Do you know where he is?” Bev asked.

She shook her head, “He went off earlier this morning without saying anything. You’re his friends?”

“Yeah, we’re in his therapy group too.” Stan was the one to say that, which surprised Bill. He wasn’t sure that mentioning being in the same group therapy would be a good idea, but Stan seemed to think so.

She widened the door, “How about you come inside? It’s getting chilly.”

They kindly took her offer, walking into the warm house and taking in the interior. Richie’s house seemed very plain, though he only moved in recently so it made sense. A few family photos were set on tables and nailed on the wall, photos showing a younger Richie that wore silly Hawaiian shirts. 

Bill followed Mrs. Tozier to the living room, he sat down on the couch, Mrs. Tozier sat in an armchair. They all gathered around.

“I wouldn’t be too worried,” She began with a sigh, “When he’s having an episode, he usually goes off on his own and doesn’t talk to anyone for days. He’ll be back soon enough.”

“Episode?” Bev frowned, “What do you mean?”

“Oh, I didn’t realize-“ she paused and looked over at the man sitting in the kitchen, Richie’s father. He looked at his wife and then looked down. She looked back at them, “Depressive episodes. He has Bipolar type two.”

Bev’s brows furrowed, “Mrs. Tozier-“

“You can just call me Maggie, dear.”

“Maggie, what happens when he’s in a depressive episode?”

“I’m not entirely sure,” she cleared her throat, “Sometimes he’ll stay in his room and not leave for days, sometimes he’ll never come home until it’s over. I’ve learned to just let him do what he needs to, he always comes back.”

“Our friend Eddie is missing too, we think he’s with Richie.” Stan looked over at Bill, “We just wanna make sure they’re okay.”

She nodded and looked over at the staircase, “You can look in his room if you’d like. Maybe see if there are any signs that your friend Eddie has been here.”

“Which room is his?” Beverly asked, looking over at the nearby staircase. 

“The one with the door closed.”

That answer was confusing to Bill, but he supposed they probably liked keeping their doors open if no one was inside. Bill stood up first, heading towards the staircase and making his way towards Richie’s room. Beverly stood behind him, almost anxious about what would be inside. He opened the door, and he was surprised to see how clean it was. 

“I was expecting clothes all over the floor and for it to smell like rotten milk,” Stan raised his brows and further entered the room, “This is definitely not that.”

And Stan was right, too. There were no scattered belongings on Richie’s floor, no dishes or garbage just laying around. His desk was neatly piled with textbooks, his pencils all stood in a cup. His floor held no stains, not even a sign of any fallen food or spilled drinks. His clothes were all neatly tucked away into his dresser, and his shoes lined up along the wall that held several band posters. 

“Are we sure This is Richie’s room?” Bev laughed, though her laughter soon halted as her eyes gazed upon a small book with a leather cover. “Trashmouth keeps a diary!?”

“You probably shouldn’t-“ Stan began, but Beverly was already holding it in her hands and staring at the name etched on the front. 

“Maybe he wrote something about going to hang out with Eddie, check the last entry.” Ben looked over at Beverly, “Just don’t read anything else.” 

Beverly nodded, flipping through the pages until she reached a blank one, then flipping back to the previous page. She looked at the words for a moment, her silence only growing Bill’s curiosity further.

“W-What does it say?” 

Beverly shook her head and closed the journal, a concerned look in her eyes. “Nothing that’ll help us find him and Eddie.”

“No sign of Eddie anywhere in here, either,” Mike spoke, standing up from Richie’s floor. He’d just checked under his bed. 

“Everything alright Bev?” Stan had been watching Beverly closely through the day, she’d been the one to first bring up the idea that Richie and Eddie were missing. She’s been scared from the start, and Bill knew there was more to it. She knew more than she led on.

She stared at the wall for a moment, brows furrowed and hands tucked into fists. “I had a nightmare last night, but it seemed so real…” she looked over at Stan, “I was in this house. It was dark and cold, someone was chasing me, so I unlocked this door and hid inside. Eddie and Stan were both in there, both looked like they were dead, but they spoke to me. Then Richie was there too, and he told me that I needed to wake up. He wasn’t dead, unlike the others. He’d been calling my name throughout the dream. He said that it wasn’t the time for me to forget, but I never figured out what he meant. Then Ben was there and he gave me this key… he said he’d found it though, so it was like we were searching for it together.”

She paused for a moment and furrowed her brows deeper, her head turned towards Bill.

“I asked him if we were missing and he nodded. He said it happened the day after Thanksgiving, but then something was walking towards the door and Ben told me not to look at it. I woke up after that, but I know it means something.”

Bill looked over at Stan and then looked around Richie’s room. He didn’t want to lose anyone else.

//////

Eddie didn’t remember falling asleep, nor did he remember finding himself in the basement of an old house. The last thing he remembered was telling Richie that he had to head home, and then everything went black. He did remember feeling dizzy and tired, but he wasn’t one to faint.

He sighed and sat up from the floor and leaned his back against the wall. Across the room from him was Richie, who still held on to unconsciousness. He looked pale than usual, making his fading bruise seem like it had gotten worse. His hair was a jumbled mess, his glasses missing from his face. Eddie began to worry that Richie would wake up and panic at the loss of sight. That also wouldn’t help them escape from wherever they were.

“Richie,” He whispered, trying to ignore the knot in his stomach. He didn’t have time to be scared, he was more worried about his friend. “Richie!”

The taller boy didn’t even budge, and that’s when Eddie noticed the small pool of blood beneath Richie’s head. It looked as if the bleeding stopped, but head injuries were serious. Richie could be dead for all Eddie knew, so he brought himself to stand up and approach Richie. It was too dark to see much, but he was relieved to see the bleeding had stopped.

“Richie,” he began to shake him, avoiding moving his head as much as possible. It only took another moment for Richie to begin to stir, his eyes squinting and a low groan escaping him. “Dude you need to get up…”

“What the fuck hit my head…” he grumbled as he rubbed the back of his head, then opened his eyes and squinted deeply. “Where the fuck are we?”

“I don’t know, but we need to get out of here. Can you see much?”

Richie shook his head, “My prescription is higher than me on a Friday night.”

“Shut up,” Eddie sighed and stood back up, “Grab my hand. I’ll try and lead you out of here.”

“Aww, how cute!” Richie grabbed ahold of Eddie’s hand. “It smells like shit in here.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, though he knew Richie probably couldn’t see. He looked around and noticed the staircase, deciding that it’d be worth it to try. It seemed too easy though, but he supposed this was reality and not some video game where he had to sneak past the enemy that had a strategic plan.

“We’re going up the stairs, watch your step.”

Richie chuckled, “Or I could let myself fall so you can catch me.”

“How can I catch you if I’m in front of you?” Eddie looked at him for a moment, upset that Richie was trying to joke around. But he was surprised to see that Richie’s eyes were full of fear. He then noticed the shakiness from Richie’s hand. He looked ahead of him again and tried to sucker up the courage to open the door at the top. 

“Are we gonna die here?” Richie mumbled, “Are we gonna be like every other missing kid? Never found again?”

Eddie didn’t have an answer for him. He wanted to say that everything would be fine, but truthfully he couldn’t even believe it himself.

“Sorry, I should shut up. Beep beep, Richie, nobody likes you.” He chuckled, “there, said it for you.”

Eddie stopped and turned around again, facing Richie with a frown, “What's wrong with you?”

“I can’t breathe.”

“Are you having a panic attack or something?” Eddie knew what those were like all too well, his asthma attacks also were frequent. He was concerned that he wasn’t having one, considering how scared he was.

“No, I just…” Richie didn’t say anything else after that. They’d reached the top, Eddie had his hand on the doorknob. Just one turn, that’s all it would take. But he couldn’t, he was frozen in place.

Richie pushed him aside and opened the door, looking back at Eddie and frowning. Eddie followed behind him, adjusting his eyes to the light. 

“Do you see anyone?” Richie asked, his eyes squinted tightly.

Eddie looked around, the house was decades old. It looked like it’d been abandoned long before they were born. No sign of life filled the inside, just them and all the spiders that lived beyond the doors. “No, the door is just over there. Let’s Go before-“

Eddie paused, his eyes landing on something familiar. He walked over to a couch, layers of dust coating it. A yellow raincoat was folded neatly atop it, there were several red stains that weren’t there before.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’m not dead I swear.
> 
> I’ve been super sleep-deprived lately because homework and school and work. My creativity has kinda been gone for a while. 
> 
> Anyways, Twas fun to write.


	17. Melancholic Rage

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things only seem to keep getting worse for the Losers.

“I wonder how long we’ve been here…” Richie chuckled at the thought, “Has anyone even noticed?”

Eddie was leaned against the wall, the yellow raincoat still stuck in his grasp. He hadn’t let go of it since the item was first in his view, and of course no explanation was given to Richie. Though he knew it had something to do with Bill’s missing (dead) brother.

Richie was sat on the old couch, it could barely even support Richie’s weight, which was rather strange given how underweight he was. They’d given up hours prior to this, after discovering they were locked inside (who even decided to make a door that locked from the outside??) and had no way out. The windows were boarded up tightly with wood, so breaking the windows wasn’t an option. Whoever brought them there knew what they were doing. It wouldn’t be an easy escape, and Richie was certain that giving up was their best option.

“The others had to have, I was supposed to be hanging out with Stan. I don’t usually ditch plans on such short notice, especially not without telling anyone.” Eddie frowned and looked over at the door, the wood seemed weak, but they didn’t have any objects capable of tearing it down.

“You have good friends, Eds.” Richie looked up at the ceiling and sighed, his throat dry from dehydration. He couldn’t even tell how long he and Eddie had been trapped in that house, how many desperate attempts of escape were made. Both of their arms were covered in bruises from persistent hitting against doors and windows. Even some cuts and scrapes, but no good came of it. 

“They’re your friends too, y’know,” Eddie glanced at Richie for a moment and then turned back towards the doorway. “You’re one of us, you’re a loser.”

Richie smirked as he nodded, Eddie had a point. He always felt so at ease when he was with the others, it was a strange feeling to him. “Maybe we can try and burn this fucker down.”

“With what? I don’t see any matches.” 

Richie dug his hand into his pocket, pulling out everything it held. Eddie widened his eyes at the sight of an old Nokia.

“You had that this whole time?!” Eddie frowned, eyes furrowed down. His own phone fell out of his pocket at the park, and Richie hadn’t even thought about his own phone.

He shrugged, “I guess so.” 

“Well, what’re you waiting for?! Call someone!”

Richie opened up the phone and stared at the numbers and letters, “Who?”

“Uhh, 911? Your parents? Literally, ANYONE!” Eddie was becoming restless, like a child that ate too much candy and was mad at everything.

Richie didn’t want to break the news to him that there was no service, he felt like it’d be too cruel. He’d gotten the boy's hopes up after hours of giving up. 

“Do you know Mike’s number?” Richie asked, “or Stan’s?”

Eddie shook his head, ”I don’t have Mike’s number, and I have Stan’s number saved in my contacts so I don’t have his number memorized.”

Richie sighed and set the phone down, “I have good news and bad news. Which would you like first?”

“Bad news.”

“There’s no service here,” Richie frowned when he watched Eddie’s face lower to a scowl. “Good News is that I know where we are.”

“Where?”

“That one house at the end of Neibolt street, I’ve walked past it before but I never connected the dots.” Richie stood up from the couch, walked over to the door and grazed his hand upon the wood. 

Eddie raised a brow, though he didn’t move. “This house has been abandoned for decades, if we don’t find a way to get water, we’ll be dead in less than a week.” His voice was flat, no hope but also no despair. 

“We’re trapped here, aren’t we?”

Eddie looked over at him, eyes dull and hopeless. He sighed as he leaned back against the wall, “Yeah, yeah we are.”

“Its my fault,” Richie began, his voice dry and frail. “If I’d never moved here...”

“It still could’ve happened, Chie.” Eddie frowned, though he knew Richie had a point. “The others will find us, it’s only a matter of time.”

Richie nodded, still knowing full well that he’d die in that house. He wondered if there was even a point in having hope, in even wanting to make it out alive. He didn’t even know if he wanted to think about it.

——————————————

It was cold out, a chilly breeze flowed through the air and left Stan a shivering mess. He was supposed to stay with Bill and Bev, but he didn’t think being around them was a great idea. They were stressed, almost too stressed. He was too, but he wanted to have hope that maybe Richie and Eddie would be alright. 

So, he left. He needed to get home anyways, it was getting dark out and he didn’t want to worry his parents. He didn’t think driving was in his best interest, too many emotions to throw him off.  
And though Stan didn’t realize it at the time, it was a terrible decision to leave the others. What happened due to his decision was something that’d give him many regrets.

There were barely any signs of life around him, the winter months creeping nearer and the animals migrating to avoid the snow. Bird watching would be only a dream until the springtime.

“Excuse me,” Stan raised his head and looked around for the source of the voice, he couldn’t see anyone. It was too dark to even see the trees. “Stanley!”

Stan sighed and took out his phone, turning on the flashlight and shining it around him. He stopped when the light stopped on a boy his age, Connor Bowers.

“Connor?” Stan furrowed his eyebrows and frowned, “What’re you doing here?”

“I-“ he began, though the words seemed to escape him for a moment. “I think I know where Richie is.”

“What do you mean?”

“I went to his house earlier and saw you guys, I heard you guys say he and Eddie were missing…” Connor looked down at the ground for a moment and shook his head, “I heard my cousin talking about Richie after, saying something about Neibolt.”

“Are you saying Henry took them?” Stan walked towards Connor, who stayed still. Almost hesitant to be near Stan.

“I don’t know, I just- Richie’s my friend.” Connor’s eyes began to water, “He’s my friend and I pushed him away, and if I never see him again-“

“We’ll find him,” Stan began, “Do you know if Henry was talking about the house at the end of Neibolt? The abandoned one?”

Connor nodded, “I think so, I’d go there but-“ 

Connor stopped when a hand grabbed Stan and covered his mouth, Stan tried to move his arms to tear away the hand but whoever was holding him was too strong. It wasn’t Henry, it was someone older. An adult. Connor was watching with tears down his eyes, his hand over his own mouth to muffle his sobs. Stan vaguely heard him repeat the words “I’m so sorry,” over and over. 

///////

Stan opened his eyes slowly, his vision still fuzzy. He couldn’t remember anything, not yet. The room was cold, he was on the wooden floor awaiting whatever was to come. 

“You’re finally awake,” a familiar voice spoke. Stan rubbed his eyes and sat up, “Good to see ya.”

“Richie?” Stan looked beside him, Eddie was resting his head on Richie’s shoulder. “What-“

“You were minding your own business and then suddenly there was a hand over your mouth and now you’re here?” Richie half-heartedly chuckled, “Am I right?”

“I don’t remember,” Stan mumbled as he stared at Eddie. “Is he okay?”

Richie was quiet for a moment, then sighed, “It was fine at first, a little scary but… no one was here until they brought you.”

“What’d they do?” Eddie was never that quiet, it was scaring him. Whatever happened was traumatic, something that would never be forgotten by Eddie.

Richie shook his head, hugging his knees to his chest. “Do you know where the others are?”

“Last time I saw them, they were at your house.”

He widened his eyes and sat up, “what?!”

“Well, we weren’t about to go to Eddie’s mom about him being missing, but your mom didn’t seem to think there’d be much of a problem. Thought you were having a bipolar episode.” Stan watched him to see how he’d react, but Richie just sighed and looked at the ground. 

“They want all of us,” Richie began, “All seven of us. I don’t know why, but they do.”

“Who?”

“Ms. Kersh and the janitor from school, Mr. Grey.” Richie itched at his neck, “I think it has something to do with our therapy group, Eddie might’ve just been in the way so they took him too.”

“I don’t understand-“ Stan began, but widened his eyes and sat up, “Wait- The missing kids… Georgie, and… and Betty…”

“Yeah, Eddie found Georgie’s raincoat in here with blood on it.” Tears began to well in his eyes, “We’re missing, Stan. We aren’t leaving this house.”

And that sentence hurt like a bitch. 

////////

The hardest part of it all was watching the missing posters go up. When it was Georgie, it felt surreal. Three of his friends felt even more surreal. Georgie never came home, no trace of him was ever found. Neither did the other kids that disappeared without a trace. But Derry would never call in backup, no one even knew their town existed.

Bill couldn’t sleep that night, and he knew the others couldn’t either. He’d taken pictures of all three posters, he kept finding himself staring at Stan’s the most. He didn’t get it, they were all at Richie’s house together, then Stan left and wasn’t seen again. Nothing about it seemed alright. But Bev’s dream kept popping into his mind. It was Stan, Eddie and Richie who were in that house in Bev’s dream. If it were starting to come true, they only had a few days until they were all trapped in a house. 

He’d called Stan and Eddie several times, a spark of hope in him that they’d pick up the phone and say it was all a prank. It was the blind optimism he had with Georgie, the hope that he just got lost in the woods and was found in a different town. But Georgie never was found, and that hurt more than Bill could ever explain. He’d found himself sitting down in Georgie’s room and hugging the stuffed dinosaur he used to always carry around when he was younger. It was a Christmas present Bill had given him, one he loved more than Bill thought he would.

He hugged the dinosaur to his face and let the warm tears cascade down his cheeks. “F-f-fuck…” he muttered, the urge to hit something came quick. He took his anger out by squeezing the stuffed animal tighter and tighter until he felt his arm grow too close. He released the stuffed animal onto the floor and began punching the mattress, “fuck!”

He spoke louder than he’d wanted too, but even if his parents heard, would they care? They’d been distant ever since Georgie went missing, they were quiet and sad. Bill was too, but at least he didn’t ignore them. At least he acknowledged their existence and didn’t act like they wished it were him instead. They didn’t need to say it for him to know that it would’ve been better. He knew it too, he was the reason after all. Georgie wanted to play with him and he didn’t want to play, so he told Georgie he was still sick from the day before and told him to play with a paper boat outside in the rain.

It was all his fault.

//////

Connor had panic attacks before, his anxiety always got the better of him, but he’d never had one quite so bad. Maybe it was the guilt he felt inside him, or the fact that he was fearing for his own life. He didn’t want to do it, really, but the woman said she’d do it and he believed her. 

He didn’t even know Richie was missing until she told him, but she was holding his glasses. It even had the small chip in the frame that he colored in with a sharpie. So, he took her claim seriously and helped. She’d let him go free afterwards, the threat still lingered if he dared to open his mouth. He didn’t have the guts to go against her, he knew she’d do it. 

Stan was a nice guy, always looked out for others and minded his own business when it was needed. He’d never really stood out in the crowd, though Henry liked to bully him for being Jewish. Connor never understood why, being similar to Hitler wasn’t exactly badass or cool. 

But that's besides the point, what mattered was that Connor just assisted in a kidnapping, and he was doomed. He needed to do something, like give a hint to Stan’s friends about where he was. But it’d be hard to do without her finding out, so what then? Send an anonymous text through a burner phone? Write a letter and deliver it to Beverly as if it were a love letter? The woman would find out eventually and that was the last thing he wanted.

He was stuck, there was no way to aid them. Not without Richie being murdered, not without him being tortured to death, his friends finding themselves in the same fate. So Connor would keep quiet and pretend like it never happened, because he knew his friends life depended on it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, that was interesting. 
> 
> I really wanted to save Connor’s part for next chapter and let you all hate him, but I needed it to be this chapter. For your sake and mine.
> 
> So, what happened between the time where Richie and Eddie were trying to find a way out and when Stan woke up? Something not very good, I’ll tell ya that much. 
> 
> See you all soon x


	18. Survive or Die

Fear lurks best in the dark, that was something Richie knew all too well. All he could see was dark, everything else just a blur. He was helpless, unable to do much without having to strain his eyes too much. If there were more light, it would’ve been easy for him to make out the figures around him. 

And then there was Eddie and Stan, they were sitting down on the dusty couch and plotting ideas of how to leave. The wood was too tough to break, the door’s lock was jammed and unable to break open. The windows were boarded up and nothing in the house could be used to break anything or tear any wood down. It was a useless effort to even try.

“If I had my glasses, I’d be tearing this whole bitch apart,” Richie began, a feeling of immaturity resonated in him. It was a feeling he hadn’t had in a while, not since New York. “I’ll fuck it harder than I fuck Eddie’s mom.”

“Oh my god Richie, shut up about my mom!” Eddie threw a pillow at him and rolled his eyes, Stan chuckled at the sight.

“You two are weird. It’s been days since we got trapped here, we should focus on finding food and water before we die.” Stan was always right, he always has his mind on the important things. Throughout the whole time they were there, Richie had been distracting himself and regressing back to his old middle school humor. Eddie was the main target of this, so he’d spend those days playfully arguing with Richie and trying to knock some sense into him. The dynamic was fun, though only a product of their newfound trauma.

“I hate to be the one to say it, but we have to check the basement.” Richie didn’t want to bring up that idea, but it was getting harder to ignore the pain in his stomach. They’d been living off of a jar of water, it was clear and didn’t taste terrible so they happily drank from it. It didn’t last too long, but Stan decided that if they find more then they should start rationing.

“Yeah, it’s probably best that we at least try. Stan, does your phone have any battery left?” Eddie asked, standing up from the couch and staring at Stan. Stan’s phone hadn’t been taken, though it didn’t have any signal either and calling 911 was impossible. He had a flashlight on it though, so that was better than nothing.

Stan took out his phone and turned it on, the bright screen strained their eyes, “I should probably turn the brightness all the way down, it’ll save the battery just a bit more. But yeah, it’s at 27%.”

“So Uhh, who wants to be my seeing eyes?” Richie chuckled, “I think Eds would be perfect.”

Eddie rolled his eyes, “Fine, but only because Stan is holding the flashlight.” 

Stan was the one to open the door to the basement, he hesitantly stepped down the first step and then the next. Richie followed behind Eddie, his sight getting worse and worse. He found himself grabbing on to Eddie’s hand, he was surprised when Eddie squeezed his hand tightly and led him down the steps.

“What happens if there’s nothing down there?” Eddie asked, breaking the silence. It was something they each were thinking, a worse-case scenario. If the basement held nothing, then the only thing they could do would be to wait for themselves to die.

No one answered, Stan only offered an apologetic gaze. One that Richie could barely see, one he couldn’t even understand when he did notice it.

They made it to the bottom of the steps, each now on solid floor and searching around. Richie looked towards the floor, his eyes squinting and trying to make out any object he could. His hand was still attached to Eddie’s, who followed behind Stan and his flashlight. The light shined on a certain small object on the ground, Stan crouched down and picked it up.

It was Richie’s glasses, cracked and dusty, but they were definitely still usable. He set them on his nose and readjusted his eyes.

“I don’t get it,” Richie began, “This is where I woke up, but they weren’t here the other day. I was checking for them and I couldn’t find them. Someone was here.”

Sure, there still was a chance that Richie just didn’t see them. But he had a bad feeling, it felt like there was the presence of another person down there. He started to look around, he eventually noticed a string coming down from the ceiling and pulled it. The light turned on and illuminated the entire basement.

He was starting to regret that, the sight of a large mungy brown stain greeted the trio. 

“Shit, that’s gotta be blood,” Eddie began, his voice starting to rise and the panic set in. “It’s been there for a while too, but only maybe a week or two. You can still smell it…”

Stan turned off his phone’s flashlight and stuck the object in his pocket. Richie noticed his eyes search the room, then landed on one area as he started walking towards it. It was a box, he opened it and smiled as two bottles of water and a metal can greeted him.

“Well, looks like we can live now,” Richie chuckled, “Isn’t it Thanksgiving today?”

“Not sure, but it could be.” Stan sighed and grabbed the objects, he handed the water to Eddie and held the can himself. “We still need to ration, who knows how long we’ll be stuck here.” 

——————

Bev was concerned, to say the least. She’d spent the last few days at Mrs. Tozier’s house with Ben. Bill and Mike took on the task of being with the Uris’s. Bev didn’t even know why, mostly to try and figure out where they each were last seen and trying to figure out where the three boys went. The police were over a lot, asking too many questions that had no known answers. One even suggested that they ran away, though that idea was quickly shut down after Eddie’s phone was found. Mike was the one to find it, it was cracked and sitting on the cement of the park and concealed by the bushes nearby. 

Bev couldn’t stop remembering her nightmare, she knew there had to be a connection. She knew where her dream took place, in the back of her mind she could imagine it. But she couldn’t remember it, not even while she was in the dream. 

Another thing she couldn’t forget was what she’d read in Richie’s journal. She luckily could keep a secret, she also could semi-respect his privacy and not read beyond what she had to. But she’d read enough, enough to know that whatever was happening to Richie would ultimately end very very badly if he was even still alive.

_ Days like these are the days I wish I were dead. I mean like actually dead, like if I was given a gun right now then I might just shoot or some shit. Idk why but this shit is intense and I can’t make it stop. _

_ Connor is moving away, dumb right? He’s my friend, I care about him more than I’d admit and him leaving is only reminding me of everyone else. He’s important to me, he can’t just leave when I need him the most. It’s selfish of me, really. I’m trying not to be so selfish but it’s hard. I can’t find the will to care about any of that. I made new friends, and I love being around them. We all have our own problems though, and my brain keeps telling me that I’m just another problem for them. That if I break down and cry, then they’ll all hate me for making a big deal out of it all.  _

_ I cleaned my room today, my mom got really concerned when she saw. It’s not like I’m gonna attempt again, but I wanna feel in control of my life. Maybe cleaning isn’t the best way, but it’s better than nothing. _

_ I walked by that old house on Neibolt street the other day, I have a bad feeling about it. I saw Mike there, but he didn’t seem to notice that there was something inside the house.  _

  
  


Bev had taken a picture of the page, not for the first half. Mainly because the last part, about Neibolt. The house at the end of that street was giving her a bad feeling as well, and she was starting to realize that it shared some aspects of the house in her nightmare.

“Ben,” She began, sitting up from the Tozier’s porch, “I think I know where they are.”

Ben stared at here and raised a brow, “Where?”

“You’re not gonna like it,” She sighed and walked into the house. The Tozier’s were speaking with the officers. “We need to check the abandoned house at the end of Neibolt street. I think that’s where they are.”

__

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back, More stuff is happening! And of course, Richie finally can see. Yaaaay. We’ll worry about how his glasses got down there later, but for now, let’s celebrate that the boys have some food and water.
> 
> I’ll see ya next chapter, stay safe x


	19. Reunion

Getting inside was probably the hardest part of their journey so far, not that what would happen afterwards would be any harder. Bev was certain that she was right, she didn’t know how or why, but she knew. Richie’s journal had been etching at her mind for ages, the last bit about Neibolt stood out and looked in her ears as if Richie himself were saying it to her. They were at Neibolt, they had to be.

The only problem; The door knob was basically decoration. The wood nailed to the inside leaving it almost impossible to break down without an axe. She didn’t have an axe, but Mike did. He was at his farm grabbing one while Bev and Ben figured out a way inside. Bill was to follow in after them if they don’t come out within thirty minutes, Mike would call the police after an hour. Their plan was solid, though maybe a bit reckless. But if Bev was certain about one thing, it was that she was in the right place. 

“Mike’s almost here, he’s got some more tools in case you need some weapons.” Bill was on the phone with Mike, the speaker against his ear as he leaned against the side of the house. Bev didn’t like being reminded of the fact that they may need weapons, it was a scary thought. 

“Bev, you got everything you need in that bag?” Bev nodded to Ben’s question. “There room for more tools or should we have a separate bag for them?”

“There’s room. This bag has the essentials, but it’s easy to fit more stuff.”

When Mike arrived, they began by filling up the bag with tools. He’d brought knives, screwdrivers, hammers, even a baseball bat. The bat wouldn’t fit in the bag, so she tied it around the straps of the bag and called it good. Mike approached the door cautiously and raised the axe, he wasted no time in swinging it down and chopping into the wood. One swing wasn’t even close to enough, he swung and swung until he chipped through, the dark interior gaining some light from the outside. Bev had a feeling that sunlight was foreign to the space in that house.

“Maybe try hitting the edges, get the door completely off?” Ben suggested, though even he seemed unsure of what to do. It wasn’t like school taught you how to break into abandoned houses to save your missing friends. Bev thought of bringing that up to her guidance counselor next time she stopped by, though that seemed a bit rash.

“I can’t, the edges are lined with metal. My axe can’t break through that, it seems like whoever sealed this door wanted to make sure it wasn’t opened again.” Mike narrowed his eyes at the gash in the door and swung again, chopping off a bigger chunk. “Bev, what makes you so sure that this is the right place?”

Bev stared at him and debated whether she should say what she saw in Richie’s journal, or if she should only mention the end bit. “You once saw Richie in front of this place once, yeah?”

Mike nodded slowly.

“He wrote about that in his last entry, he said he had a bad feeling about the place. That he  _ saw  _ someone inside.” Bev sighed and stared at the house, barely any openings led to the sight of the indoors. Only one lonely window that was pitch black despite the daylight.

Mike looked over at the street where he saw Richie, then turned towards the house. He’d had a bad feeling too, he’d heard noises there and seen shadows moving that held no physical connection. He’d shrugged it all off as his imagination, but his gut was telling him that Beverly Marsh was correct, that Richie, Eddie, and Stan were all inside. So, he swung his axe, again and again. He swung until the opening was large enough for Beverly and Ben to crawl through and make their way inside. The hole in the door ended up being larger than he’d planned.

“We’ll be back soon, set a timer for thirty minutes. Mike, keep your phone on you.” Bev sighed and turned towards Ben, “You ready?”

Ben nodded, he crawled through the hole and entered the dark house. Beverly followed behind him with the bag slung on her back. She pulled out her phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it around her.

“Everything is covered in dust, I don’t think anyone has been in this room for decades.” Ben coughed and waved his hand to spread the dust away, “We should try the basement, there’s probably an opening that would lead to an alternate entrance that could’ve been used.”

“Should we call their names or should we stay quiet?” Bev asked in a hushed tone, “If their kidnapper is still here, then that’d end worse than if we didn’t.”

“Let’s not make too much noise for now, we don’t know what we’re dealing with.” Ben opened Bev’s bag and grabbed out two weapons: a pocket knife and a hammer. He handed Bev the hammer, she tightened her grip around it and adjusted to its weight and adjusted the way she held it to be more easy to swing.

“Wait, look-“ Bev pointed to the floor. A square stood apart from the rest of the floorboards. “A trapdoor, I think…”

Ben nodded and kneeled down, brushing the dust off of it and raising the boards up. A ladder greeted them. “Well, looks promising…” he gulped, staring down at the void beneath him. His eyes glanced up at Beverly, who held a determined gaze. One that showed no fear.

“I’ll go first,” He sighed, “You can keep an ear out for any signs of them while we climb down. I’ll keep an eye out once I reach the ground and can hold the flashlight.”

Bev nodded, following him down the ladder. It was covered in rust, she made sure to not get cut by the old metal. By the time both her feet were on the ground, she noticed the strange room they stood in. It was almost like an exact replica of the living from upstairs, but less dusty. It looked exactly like the one from her nightmare.

“There’s no service down here, Bev. I can’t send Bill a text about the trapdoor-“ Ben began, but a thud caught their attention. The trapdoor closed above them, the ladder folding up with it. They were trapped. 

“Shit!” Bev yelled, she no longer feared being heard. Someone else was in that house and was already very aware of her and Ben. “There’s gotta be another way out!” 

Footsteps, that’s what they heard next. The stood frozen in place, eyes wide and flashlight facing the doorway that the footsteps echoed from. They came closer and closer, running fast. Bev widened her eyes as the footsteps stopped and a dark figure stood in the doorway, now illuminated by her phone’s flashlight. 

Richie’s hair was matted down with dried blood, the red also on the side of his face. His glasses were cracked and dirty, his figure even smaller than before. His eyes tired, dark circles formed underneath.

“Richie?!” Bev spoke, almost fearing that he was only a product of her fear making a hallucination of some hope. 

“What- what’re you doing-“

Bev ran up to him and hugged him tightly, he didn’t hug back, but let her hug him anyways. She released the hug and stared at him, “Where are Eddie and Stan?!”

“We were in the basement, we’ve been hiding out in there for a while, maybe a few hours?” He gestured for her to follow him, they walked down a staircase and to the cold room beneath it.

“This Place has two basements?” Ben breathled, “What the hell?”

Richie raised a brow, “What’re you talking about?”

“We got here from a trapdoor, we came down to that living room and someone closed it.”

Bev couldn’t finish explaining, her gaze met Eddie’s and Stan’s, they were sitting against the wall in an old blanket that seemed more decorative than for warmth. 

“Bev?” Eddie mumbled, “Ben?”

Bev nodded and ran towards her friends, crouching down and hugging them. She could feel tears against her arm, but ignored it. She felt like sobbing, but she couldn’t.

“What happened?” Ben asked, getting right into what they’d been trying to figure out for days.

“Eddie and I were at the park on Saturday morning and when we were leaving, someone knocked us out. We woke up here,” Richie turned to Stan, “He still can’t remember everything. Similar situation I think.”

“I was walking home from the Tozier’s and I saw someone-“ Stan looked at Richie for a moment and then back at Bev, “Then I woke up here.”

“Has anyone else been here?”

“Bev, you know the answer to that.” Eddie mumbled, eyes wide and staring off at the floor. “There’s someone in this house and they’re acting like it’s some kind of game.”

“What do you-“

“Ah, shit!” Richie hissed, rubbing his head. “You wouldn’t happen to have some aspirin in that bag, would ya?”

Beverly furrowed her brows, “I don’t know, Bill just gave me the first-aid kit from his house.”

“Why didn’t you say it was hurting still? I could’ve helped!” Eddie spoke, standing up and parting Richie’s hair to show the scabbing injury on Richie’s head. “Bev, give me that kit.”

Bev nodded, pulling out the kit from her bag and handing it to Eddie. Eddie took a pair of blue gloves from the bag, putting them on his hands and grabbing some gauze and bandage. He placed the gauze on Richie’s injury and wrapped the bandage around it tightly. 

“You’re in luck,” Stan chuckled, “Bill put aspirin in the bag.” He tossed the bottle to Eddie, who took one pill out and handed it to Richie.

“This stuff tastes like dog shit,” Richie sighed, putting it in his mouth. “But I’d rather eat dog shit than let my head be in pain.”

“Smart,” Ben mumbled, looking around. “So, how do we get out?”

“The trapdoor and its ladder are out of reach, the ceiling is too high. If we even try, that ladder only folds down if the door is brought up or down. There’s gotta be another way.” Bev swallowed and sat up, “BILL!” 

“Bill?” Ben repeated, “BILL! And Mike! They have to find us, there’s no way they’d miss that trap door!”

“Alright alright, care to fill us in?” Stan spoke with slight irritation in his voice. 

“Bill and Mike are outside. Bill is gonna look for us if we don’t come out or text him for thirty minutes, Mike will call the police if there’s no sign of us for an hour, or if he feels it’s necessary.”

Richie grinned, “Well, that’s handy. So now we wait for them to realize you’re not getting out that door.”

/////

Thirty minutes passed and there was no sign of them in that house. The alarm went off as Bill was slumped against a fence post and Mike sat on the grass. Bill sat up and sighed, “I don’t have a g-good feeling about this.”

“Me neither. Are you sure you wanna go in alone?”

“We have n-no choice,” Bill said, he was walking closer to the door. “We need someone to call the police, that’s you.”

“True, but I don’t know how good of an idea it is to let you go-“

“I-it’s Fine! I can h-handle myself!” Bill yelled, causing Mike to sit in silence. Bill ducked into the hole and into the dark room. He turned on his flashlight and stared out into the distance. It was dusty, two sets of footprints were on the floor and led to a carpet. Bill had seen many movies, enough to know that beneath the carpet was a trap door. 

He pushed the carpet back, a black key sat above the trapdoor. He put the key in his pocket and opened the door, a ladder fell below. He climbed down, but the doorways were all either locked or blocked. He walked around, the room was an exact replica of the living from above it, but one thing stood out.

Sitting on a chair was a yellow raincoat, one with his brother’s name written onto the tag in his mother’s handwriting. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Holidays y’all, hopefully 2020 will end peacefully. 
> 
> I think this is a pretty good place to leave this chapter off at, but soon we’ll have more of Robert Gray


	20. Take Action

The only thing lighting the room was the light of his phone. Dust swarmed the area, each breath felt heavy. Bill never thought of himself as a violent person, he didn’t like unnecessary conflict. Even if the conflict involved Henry Bowers, Bill always knew better than to let the older teen upset him. But seeing his little brother’s raincoat stained in blood was something that lit a spark in him. Seeing confirmation that Georgie was most certainly dead— that was too much for Bill. 

He felt enraged, a new mission in his mind. He had to find whoever was in that house, whoever did so much harm to Bill’s life. They killed Georgie, kidnapped his friends, and now? Now they trapped Bill, too. The ladder went up without him noticing, his way out now gone. He tried to text Mike but it was no use, the service diminished completely the moment he entered the basement. All the doors around it were locked, he was stuck. He was certain that Beverly and Ben went the same route, two sets of footprints led to another door that he couldn’t unlock. A third set of footprints was all over the floor, larger and more directed. Definitely not any that belonged to his friends.

He pulled the black key from his pocket and tried fitting it into the keyhole of the door, it remained locked. He furrowed his brows and tried another door, continuing this task on each door until he found himself in front of the final door. He had to move a bookshelf out of the way to even reach the knob, his hands now covered in splinters from the old wood. Bill sighed and put the key into the lock, widening his eyes when the door unlocked. It seemed suspicious though, the doorway couldn’t lead to where his friends were, and the fact that the key was purposely left there also disturbed him. He had no choice though, it was the only place he could go. So he opened the door and walked through, shining his flashlight on the walls. 

He wished Stan were there, going in alone was hard. He’d been friends with Stan for many years, he felt so at ease when he was by his side. He couldn’t imagine what was happening to him, or maybe he was already dead too.

“H-hello?” He called out, slightly hopeful that someone would respond. He didn’t even care who, he needed a sign of life in that house. A hint to where the others were. He was given no response, only hearing the slight echo of his footsteps against the wooden floor. There was even a creak in the floorboards, a sign that there was another basement. 

It didn’t take long to reach the end of the hall, a door stood open and wide. It was almost begging for Bill to enter, and who was he to deny his curiosity? So, he entered. A light switch rested on the wall, he decided to test if it’d work. It did, the lights in that room all illuminated and he stared at the decor. Around the room were posters and a vanity, even some costumes and makeup. It was for the Derry circus clowns, maybe even one in particular. “Pennywise the Dancing clown,” though the eyes on the poster had darts through them and a painted red handprint over the face on another poster. The clown was oddly familiar, one he could vaguely recall seeing at the recent circus. 

“William Denbrough,” a voice spoke, one that sounded like nails on a chalkboard. Bill slowly turned around, he had no weapons on hand. He hadn’t thought about the possibility of needing one, he’d been ignorant. 

“W-who are you?” He was trapped, cornered. He had no way of escaping the man in front of him. But Bill knew who this man was, he’d spent the school year staring at the new school janitor for ages. The guy always gave him a bad feeling, and rightfully so. He didn’t even know why he asked, part of him wanted to think that he’d get a different answer than what he knew.

“Let’s Play a Game, B-b-b-billy!” That wasn’t quite the answer he was hoping for, nonetheless he needed to rethink his plan. The man didn’t move, in fact, he didn’t even blink.

He needed to be rational, he couldn’t just try and fight this grown man that was standing in the doorway. He knew he was lanky and he definitely wasn’t good at fighting, so he needed to find a way to run. If he could get out of there and find Bev and Ben, he’d be better off.

He quickly looked around the room, his eyes gazing upon a spear, how convenient. He quickly ran over, grabbing it and running towards Mr. Gray, who still was yet to move. 

“What’re you gonna do with that?!” He laughed, almost hysterically. 

Bill furrowed his brows as he tried throwing it towards Mr. Gray, it missed and landed behind the man. He laughed even louder, surely loud enough for his friends to hear. It gave him some hope, though, given the fact that the doors were quite locked, he was losing that hope quickly.

Then he had an idea, one that relied on timing. He pulled out his phone and turned on the flashlight, shining it in Mr. Gray’s eyes and blinding him. Bill quickly pushed him, keeping the flashlight close enough to disorient him. Then, he ran down the hallway and back out the door. He had to act fast, pick a place to hide. He wasn’t sure what his school janitor was planning to do, or even what he’d already done. Bill didn’t even have enough time to ask himself why Georgie’s raincoat was in that house, and what Mr. Gray had to do with it. 

All he knew was that another door was now open, the one that he thought his friends were behind. The one with the footprints leading to it, and so he ran through the doorway.

——-

“So, how exactly are we getting out of here?” Ben asked, breaking the silence they’d kept. 

Richie shrugged, “The guy who’s keeping us here is treating it like a game. Any way we find out is bound to be a trap.”

“Wait-“ Bev furrowed her brows and stared at him, “Guy? You’ve seen who trapped us here?”

He nodded, eyeing Eddie for a moment. “We should’ve said something sooner, but in the time between when we woke up here and when Stan did, he was here.”

“Chie-“ Eddie began, voice dull and tired. He wanted to stop him from whatever he wanted to say, but no words could escape him. No fight.

“We didn’t wanna say anything, because we all know who he is…” Richie gulped, staring up at the doorway. “Mr. Gray came here and he was carrying a bag, one shaped like a body.”

The door slammed open, Bill stood there with wide eyes and panting heavily. No one had time to focus on the revelation that Richie just shared, because Bill was acting as though he were being chased.

“Bill?!” Stan stared at his friend in awe, he looked like shit. Stan figured he looked worse, as he was in that house for days.

“We n-need to g-get out of here, now.” 

“But how?” Richie stood up, helping the others do the same. Subconsciously, he grabbed on to Eddie’s hand. The smaller boy said nothing, only squeezing Richie’s hand. “Pull a Scooby-Doo and split up? I’d make a great Velma, just saying.”

He wasn’t funny. He should just shut up and stop joking, THEY WERE GONNA DIE. Richie rubbed his forehead, he needed to stop thinking. He didn’t have time to overthink.

“No, n-no we can’t. We need to s-stick together.” Bill looked at Beverly, “It’s Mr. Gray, h-he’s-“

“Richie just told us,” Bev spoke, “But why? Why us?! I need to hear it from him, but I’m not waiting another thirty minutes for that.”

“More like t-ten.” Bill mumbled, staring at the time on his phone, “The door to this area was locked when I got here. I went down a different hallway and that’s where I saw him. Mike has ten more minutes until he calls the police, but that doesn’t mean that they’ll immediately take it seriously and break into this place.”

“What’re you talking about?” Stan asked.

“We made this plan-“ Ben began, “Bev and I went in first, if thirty minutes passed and we showed no signs of being out, Bill would go in after us. Then if an hour passed when Bev and I went in, Mike would call the police.”

“This is Derry,” Eddie sighed, “They won’t even entertain the idea of looking in this shithole of a house.”

“Trust us, it’s gonna be fine.” Bev was certain of it, it’d all work out just fine.

—-////

Connor wasn’t one to do anything rash or dangerous, he typically kept to himself. It was his last day, then he’d be gone from Derry forever. Richie had been missing for days, and he knew where. He’d finally decided that it was time to do something, or else he’d never be able to live with himself.

He didn’t have anything to bring, all his belongings in boxes. Hell, he had no plan. He just knew he couldn’t sit there, and so he found himself in front of the abandoned house on Neibolt street. He wasn’t alone, Mike Hanlon stood there with his head in his arms, his hand tightly holding onto his phone. Connor was almost tempted to sneak by him, but his presence there meant that Richie’s friends had figured it out. 

“Mike,” Connor began, “You awake?”

Mike raised his head and stared at Connor, “What?”

“Who went in there?” He asked, Mike furrowed his brows.

“Beverly, Ben, and Bill. We think Stan, Eddie, and Richie are in there too.”

Well, shit. Connor wasn’t completely sure of what Mr. Gray was capable of, but he did know that the guy wasn’t alone. He seemed smart, and dangerous. A man that wasn’t scared of killing. Connor didn’t wanna know if Richie was still alive, he wanted to blindly believe that maybe it could be the case. Richie would be fine, and so would his friends.

“Keep an eye out for anyone else that would wanna get inside. Only let the police do so, don’t trust anyone,” Connor advised, turning towards the door and preparing to enter. He had no idea what the interior looked like, but he’d figure it out. He had no choice but to. 

Mike blinked, “What’re you doing? How do you know about what’s happening?”

Connor didn’t stop to reply, didn’t think it was worth the wasted effort. He entered the house and prepared for what was to come. To his surprise, it was empty. A dusty living room with an obvious trapdoor in the middle. He turned around and poked his head through the broken doorway.

“Mike, there’s a trapdoor in the middle. I have a feeling that someone inside may try to hide it if they hear the sirens. Let the police know, and call them now. Don’t wait any longer, Richie and the others are in there.”

Mike stared at Connor and nodded, he pulled out his phone and dialed 911.

——

Maggie Tozier was never one to be a bad parent. Her own parents tended to be neglectful, and so she made it a point to always be there for her children. Her daughter turned out perfectly, amazing grades and went to a good college. She could never figure out where she went wrong with Richie.

It wasn’t that he was a bad kid, he was sweet and always tried to do kind things for Maggie. But mentally, he was a challenge. He wasn’t always like that, as a kid he was always happy and always wanted to be around Maggie and Wentworth. Then things went downhill, he started to lose his smile and started skipping meals. He’d sneak out, he’d come home smelling of cigarettes. Sometimes weed. His grades declined, going from perfect A’s to failing each class. Then he’d start skipping school, that’s when Maggie had enough. 

She had tried to investigate, but it turned out that he was struggling mentally. She didn’t figure that out until she got a phone call from the police saying that he tried to jump off a bridge. She knew her only choice was to move, move as far away as she could. Luckily, Wentworth was able to find a dentist position in Derry, Maine. It wasn’t long after Richie was released from the mental hospital that they made their way to the small town. It was supposed to be a fresh start, a chance to recover and leave the last behind.

But now Richie was missing, it wasn’t another week where he’d leave the house and rarely return, no he didn’t leave on his own will. She’d figured that out after his friends went missing as well. His other friends had come over occasionally to look for clues and to console her, but she really didn’t need them around. She appreciated it, sure, but she knew it was best that they stay home and away from the chance to end up missing too. 

She had looked into it, kids went missing all the time in Derry. None ever got found, not even bodies. They just disappeared from the earth, no trace. Richie wouldn’t be an exception, no matter how much she hoped and prayed. He was gone, she couldn’t keep convincing herself otherwise. Wentworth buried himself in his work, and Maggie refrained from telling her daughter about what happened. She didn’t need to worry yet, not until the time was right.

But the time would never be right, and so she dialed the number into her phone and listened to the soft dialing tone of her phone. She took a breath as the call connected her to her daughter.

“You need to come home,” She held in her tears, it wasn’t the time to cry. “I’ll send you our new address. Richie’s missing.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It’s almost 2021 as I post this and OH BOY   
> I’m getting my drivers license in a few weeks, so that’s fun haha.
> 
> Sorry for the Angst in this chapter, but it’s very needed. For now, I’m not giving Richie’s sister a name. Canonly she exists, but is never named, so I’m gonna try and keep it that way for my story. 
> 
> Also- lots of Reddie content coming soon ;)


	21. Split Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bill had seen Scooby Doo, and he knew it wasn’t always a good thing to be split up.

They’d split up. They hadn’t meant to, they were just looking around for a way out before Mr. Gray chose to hunt them down. Before they knew it, doors were closing and locking. Richie had been sat down wiping off his glasses, he was with Eddie. 

“What was that?” Eddie whispered, staring at Richie with wide eyes. The sound repeated again, a loud thud. Richie was starting to not get bothered by any of it, he knew he had to toughen up if he wanted to get out alive.

“Like I’d know,” Richie sighed, “Should we even try looking around?”

“Probably, it’d make more sense than to wait for whatever is gonna find us.” Eddie rubbed his hand across his face, they hadn’t slept much since they ended up trapped in that house. They were both running purely on adrenaline, which would bite them in the ass soon enough. Richie stared at Eddie, the bags under his eyes. He couldn’t help but think, which wasn’t always a good thing.

“This would be so much easier if I were still suicidal.”

Silence. No, he was oversharing. He should’ve kept quiet, that was too depressing. He’d been thinking about it for a while, and part of him felt the need to vocalize it. He always tried keeping those thoughts to himself, but he could trust Eddie. When he was with Eddie, he felt safe. (For the most part, anyways.)

“What helped? Surely Ms. Kersh didn’t get you to a better mindset.” Oh, Eddie was inquisitive. He’d forgotten about that.

Richie shrugged, rubbing a hand through his oily hair. He needed a shower, he decided he’d shower as soon as he got out of there. If he got out of there.

“I guess I found my purpose.”

Eddie stared at him, Richie couldn’t help but stare back. He didn’t know when it began, or even how it began. His sexuality was something he hated about himself, and though his parents would be supportive, he never planned on telling anyone. He could fake it for his whole life if he had to.

But Eddie made him feel different, like maybe his future held hope. Connor had confused him for a while, making him wonder about it more. But the feeling he got around Eddie- it was one he never wanted to be rid of. He felt this instinct to stay by him and hold him. He’d find himself staring at his soft pink lips and wondering what the boy would do if he gave into the urge to kiss them.

And there they were, trapped underground with only a sliver of hope to give them reason to try. If they were to die down there, then he wanted to die with no regrets. 

“Chie?” Eddie mumbled, furrowing his brows as Richie only stared at him. Then the taller boy leaned in, grabbed the sides of Eddie’s face, and kissed him on the lips. He didn’t let go for a few seconds, then pulled away and stared at Eddie. 

“I think I like you, Eds. Like, a lot. I don’t wanna die without telling you.”

Eddie didn’t say anything, though his face was a bright red. He raised his hand and grazed his thumb on his bottom lip, then couldn’t help but smile. “Oh.”

“Is- is that a good oh, or a bad oh?” Now he was getting nervous, but the smile seemed like a good sign.

“You tell me,” Eddie pulled Richie in and kissed him. It wasn’t a perfect kiss, both boys had little or no experience with that kind of thing. But to them, it was everything. He pulled away after a minute, staring at Richie with wonder. “Didn’t expect that from you.”

“Didn’t expect it from you, either.” Richie smiled, “So, you aren’t straight, huh?”

“I- well I guess not… I knew I felt weird around you, and I’ve never had a crush on any girls before. I probably liked Bill at one point though, but then with you- it was so different. I couldn’t understand it, and I started realizing it. But I couldn’t tell anyone- no one would understand- but, what about you?”

“I kinda always knew. I just- I wanted to hide it for as long as I could. I hated knowing what I was, because it meant so much trouble for me-“ he sighed, “But being with you, that means more than what society thinks.”

“So, what I’m hearing is that you wanna-“

“Yeah, I’m asking you out at the bottom of a Murder house. Romantic, yeah?”

Eddie rolled his eyes and nodded, “Let’s try to find a way out now, I don’t wanna die down here after being asked out.” It wasn’t a yes or no, but it was a good enough response for Richie.

Richie chuckled, “Sure thing, spaghetti.”

————

Things would be okay. Bill was certain of it, the plan had to work. The police were probably on their way at that moment, Mike was probably waiting to explain the situation. 

Being split up wouldn’t matter, only a slight inconvenience. He’d watched Scooby Doo as a kid, and splitting up was always a part of their plan. Sure, it was a kids show that guaranteed the main characters would be okay at the end of each episode, but still. 

“Well, I guess now we wait,” Stan sighed and sat himself against the wall. 

“F-for what? To d-die?”

Stan stared at him and shrugged, a feeling within him told him that he’d guessed correctly. 

Bill frowned, had his brother succumbed the same fate? Had Georgie died in that very same house? 

“Are you Even sure Mike’s coming? The police aren’t going to believe him, and then he’s gonna give up and save himself.”

“You need to t-trust him more, he’ll be a-able to do it. They’ll b-believe him.” He spoke with confidence, but Bill wasn’t quite in that mindset. He also held doubts for if his friend would be able to save them.

Thud. The sound repeated, the two boys turned to face the direction of the noise. 

“Is- is someone knocking?” Stan stood up and walked in the direction of the sound. It was the wall, he placed a hand on the rough wood panels of the wall and knocked against it. It felt hollow, something was behind that wall.

“There’s n-no door,” Bill looked around the room, there was no sign of anything. It was just a void room filled only with the darkness that surrounded it. “W-wait!” 

“Huh?” Stan turned around and stared at his friend, Bill was pulling a bag off of his shoulder and pulled out a hammer from one of the pockets of the bag. “Oh, you waited until just now to show that you had weapons?!”

Bill didn’t respond, focusing solely on the wall. He’d never used a hammer before, but he’d seen enough movies to know the gist of it. He brought the hammer up, the claw side facing the wall, and swung it forward. The hammer got stuck in the wall, he pulled back but a hand stopped him.

“You’re a dumbass, you try and pull it out like that and you’ll lose an eye.” Stan pulled Bill’s hand off of the hammer and slowly removed the tool from within the wall. “Didn’t think my six years of Boy Scouts would pay off like this, but I’m not complaining.”

He’d forgotten that Stan’s father was adamant on Stan being a Boy Scout through elementary school. It was something that Stan rarely spoke of, but as kids he’d always be wearing the dumb uniform. He used to always carry a pocket knife on him, but it seemed as though Stan hadn’t had the idea to keep one on the day he was kidnapped.

“Well, I-if You’re so good at destroying w-walls, you try i-it.” Bill mostly just wanted to see if Stan could actually do it, breaking down a wall with a hammer didn’t sound like an easy task.

“Tch, I’m not Richie. A dumb challenge isn’t gonna motivate me.” Nonetheless, Stan swung the hammer I to the wall and worsened the damage. He continued this until the hole was large enough for them to get a good look at what was there. Bill turned on his flashlight and pointed it inside, his eyes widening.

“I- What?” Bill mumbled, then glancing at Stan who held a similar expression.

“What the fuck…” 

The room was filled with missing posters of many, many children. Most of which were recognized by Bill. They were all the kids that went missing in Derry for the past few decades. All taped to the walls and covering every part of the room. In the center of the room, Patrick Hockstetter lay on the floor. 

“Is he dead?” Stan mumbled, not stepping any further into the room. 

Bill gulped and stepped inside, shining the flashlight on Patrick’s face and crouching down beside the pale teen. He extended two fingers and placed them on his neck, feeling around for any sign of life. No pulse could be found.

“He’s d-dead.” 

They both had last seen Patrick at school the last day they went. He’d seemed fine, as annoying as ever, but fine. Had he been missing as long as they had? Would they end up just like him? Lifeless on the floor?

“Looks like he’d been dead for a while…” Stan frowned, walking up to him. “So, what made that sound then?”

——————-/////

“Bev? Bill? Stan? Richie?!” Ben was growing tired of calling out the names of his friends. He couldn’t remember how it happened, one second they were all together, and the next he was alone. The doors around him all locked, no keys in sight. He had no lock-picking skills, just a vague amount of knowledge on basic survival tactics. 

The hallway was long, the walls had peeling paint that was a rusty shade of brown. The light was limited, his eyes barely adjusted to the dark. He had his flashlight though, but that would only last for however long the batteries would last. Each door looked the same, wooden and chipped, silver knobs that all stood locked in place. Ben wasn’t even sure that all of the doors led to anywhere. He’d studied architecture, and that house broke so many rules.

He stopped, the door to his left was different. The knob was a brassy-gold color. He lowered his flashlight to shine onto it, fingerprints were scattered onto it. They seemed recent, not yet covered by dust. His frown deepened, should he even bother trying to turn the knob? What were the chances that the door would be any different from the other doors? He wasn’t in a video game where everything made sense, he was in reality and nothing held any meaning.

Or so he thought, because when he turned the knob- well, it opened. The room was filled with dust, he coughed as he made his way inside and looked around. Part of him wanted to just remain away from the room and just let himself succumb to whatever fate was coming his way. He knew better than that.

“Hello?” He knew speaking was a bad idea, but he needed to find someone. He’d entered that house with Beverly, they wanted to ensure the best possible outcome. This was not what they had planned.

“Ben?” A weak voice called out. Ben looked around the room until he saw Beverly leaning against the wall with her knees brought up to her chest. 

“Bev! He ran towards her, ignoring the rest of whatever filled that void in the room, and he crouched down next to her. “Are you alright? What happened?!”

She frowned, biting at her lip and staring at him. “My nightmare- it’s coming true…”

“What? What part of it?” He could barely remember sitting in Richie’s room and listening to her tell the story of her nightmare. That day had been hectic, Richie and Eddie went missing and they had no clue of where or why. Things had only gotten worse ever since, so it was natural that he’d forgotten about the nightmare.

“The hallway, in my nightmare I was walking through that exact hallway, I opened the same door that led me to this room… plus, Richie, Eddie, and Stan were the first to go missing. They were the three people in my dream- and you…”

“And me..?”

“You followed after me in the dream- we were looking for a key…” She stood up, causing Ben to jolt back and stare at Beverly. He hadn’t seen any keys, or anywhere that would pique their curiosity enough for them to require a key.

“What’re you doing?” 

“We’ve gotta be close to finding the way out, my dream has to mean something… If most of it came true, then that’s gotta mean something…”

“Okay,” He sighed, “What happened after we found the key?”

She was silent, staring cautiously at him. Her eyes widened after a moment, “Something found us, whatever we’ve been running from in here… Mr. Gray, he’ll be here.”

“Well, then we just have to find that key and find a way out. Avoid this room maybe?” Ben looked around, it was bare of anything. Only a couch and some lights on the walls. Turning on the lights sounded useless, he doubted they worked. Besides, turning them on would only point Mr. Gray towards them. The last thing they needed was to be brutally murdered because they were dumb.

“Right- You’re Right.” Beverly grabbed her own flashlight and pressed the button. The device illuminated and she pointed it around the room. “What do we know about Mr. Gray?”

“Well, he works as a janitor at our school…”

“Yeah, but there’s something else… Richie told me about it…” Bev gulped, “He works as a circus clown part-time. Specifically at the annual Derry circus.”

Ben widened his eyes, remembering the day they all were forced to go to the circus by Ms. Kersh. Richie mentioned a clown stalking him, it all seemed to fit together so perfectly. It was all planned, someone wanted them all to be there. Did Mr. Gray have some sort of grudge against them? Or was it all just random?

“Dammit, we need to find the others,” Bev rubbed her palm against her eyes. “They’d know more than we do.”

“Bev, it’ll be okay.” Ben wasn’t good at cheering people up, but he could try. “We just gotta find a way out, and we have to trust that Mike is able to get the police to search the place.”

Bev nodded, she always held herself so high. Always trying to be a leader, caring about the others as if they all were her children. Ben couldn’t help but admire her, admire who she was. 

“Let’s not split up, just search together…” she mumbled, looking up at him. “Less efficient, but safer.”

He nodded, “Yeah, good plan.”

Thud.

He stared at her, she turned and tried to find the direction of where the sound came from.

Thud. Thud.

“The others had to have heard that, too.” She inhaled, the air was dry. “Let’s follow the sound.”

Ben nodded, a door within the room stood in the same direction. He opened it, grabbing Bev’s hand so as to not lose her. He ignored the heat that rose onto his cheeks, it wasn’t the time to think of something as small as a crush. He entered the doorway and bit his inner cheek. The door led to another room with another door. 

“I just wanna know who the hell built this house and thought that having this many random rooms and doors was such a swell idea,” Bev muttered. “It’s like a maze.”

“Mr. Gray had to have built it then, he’s a clown. He gets a thrill from games like these, he wants to feel like a predator hunting his prey.” Ben gulped, staring at the door. He had a bad feeling.

Another noise, one much closer. From behind the door, but this noise wasn’t a thud. It was the sound of something hitting the wall. 

“Maybe we should turn around-“ Ben couldn’t finish, Beverly let go of his hand and ran past him, opening the door. He sighed and followed behind her, entering the room. Bill and Stan sat in front of the corpse of Patrick Hockstetter, confused Looks in their eyes. The room was covered in missing posters, some containing familiar faces.

“Bev? Ben?” Stan mumbled. “Have you seen Richie or Eddie?”

Bev shook her head, “What was that sound?” 

“Dunno,” Bill pointed behind them, then stood up and brushed off his knees. “We h-had to break our way in here o-once we heard the thud. When w-we got in here, we saw h-him.”

Ben stared at Patrick’s body in shock, one of his former tormentors now looking so peaceful. 

“How’d he die?” Ben couldn’t see any physical signs, though the blood was telling him that something had to have happened.

Stan shook his head, “Can’t tell, but we aren’t gonna bother on checking. We should find the others before we end up like him.”

“Yeah, yeah you’re right.” Ben sighed, Stan had been there longer than they had. He couldn’t imagine having to go through that, especially having to be kidnapped. They had to find Richie and Eddie, they had to get out.

————///::::

Richie halted, his eyes growing heavy. He needed to sleep, but he doubted he’d get to anytime soon. His stomach growled, Eddie’s did the same. 

“If you were an exit to this house, where would you be?” He asked, trying to lighten the mood while also trying to stay on task.

“Hmm, well I’m guessing above both trap doors.” Eddie frowned, “Which are impossible to get to, especially given the fact that we don’t know where the others are. We should focus on finding them, strength in numbers always works out…”

“Does it?” Richie rolled his eyes, “Have you ever watched a single horror movie? They always start off with a big group, and by the end there’s maybe one or two left.”

Richie hoped Eddie wouldn’t point out that that’d mean that the others could be dead. He wasn’t quite sure he could process that idea.

Thud.

They hadn’t heard the thud in a while, but this time it came from a different direction than before. Richie glanced at Eddie before approaching the door that the sound came from. He opened it, and stared.

“Connor…?”

“Hey Richie…” His friend spoke, “Where are your friends?”

Richie didn’t answer, only staring. Why was Connor there? Why did he seem like he knew what he was doing?

He found himself squeezing Eddie’s hand, the boy squeezed back. 

“I can help you guys get out of here, you just have to trust me.” Connor frowned, but his eyes seemed caring. Trustworthy, even. So, Richie trusted him. His confusion still stood, but he was in no position to deny any help.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhh it’s been a while !!! I’m completely losing the concept of time Bc it hasn’t felt like over a month : , )
> 
> Anyways, I kept wanting to end that chapter early but I pushed myself to write until I got to when Connor appears. I wanna live up to my prediction of 30 chapters, and there’s still a good chunk of stuff to cover


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